


Freelance Good Guys: Evangelites Skip, Matuzans Sway

by TheGreys (alienjpeg)



Series: Looming Gaia [12]
Category: Freelance Good Guys
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Angst with a Happy Ending, Drama, Elves, Friendship, Gay Sex, Humor, LGBTQ Character, M/M, Magic, Nymphs - Freeform, Romance, Sibling Rivalry, Slavery, Swordfighting, Violence, lycanthropy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-12
Updated: 2018-10-12
Packaged: 2019-07-29 19:29:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 29,543
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16270841
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alienjpeg/pseuds/TheGreys
Summary: "Evangelites skip, Matuzans sway, blue above, orange down the way, a world between, or so they say, but still they fight, and still they play!"The Freelance Good Guys join a fighting tournament in Uekoro. One thing leads to another and Evan finds himself pining after the king, of all people. Knowing this can only lead to disaster, Lukas is determined to crush this love under his boot.





	1. DOGFIGHT

**Author's Note:**

> This story can read on its own, but it's technically part of the "Freelance Good Guys" series. It'll make more sense if you read them in order. I recommend at least reading "Monster by Moonlight" and "The Perfect Shot" to get the full experience out of this one.
> 
> Please heed the tags for content warnings.
> 
> For concept art, lore, and worldbuilding stuff check out the masterpost: https://loominggaia.tumblr.com/post/175087795478/looming-gaia-masterpost

##  **[CHAPTER 1: DOGFIGHT]**

 

     _SUMMER, 6005_

 

     This afternoon, the Freelance Good Guys were celebrating another job well done. This contract had paid handsomely, so why not spoil themselves with another round of drinks? One more round turned to two, turned to three…

 

     Now their heads were foggy with Kelloru’s famous palm wine and things were starting to look different. To Glenvar, the lumpy troll across the bar was looking smooth and shapely. To Alaine, the boiled elephant’s testicles on the menu were looking most appetizing.

 

     And to Captain Evan Atlas, that flyer for a fighting tournament on the wall looked like a good idea. He tore it from the community bulletin, straining to read the details through the haze of alcohol. The tournament was taking place in Uekoro two days from now.

 

     The crew was currently in Kelloru, a bustling town in the dry, flat Midland Savannah. It was split in twain by the Matuzan Railroad. But that railroad ran all over Matuzu Kingdom, and surely they could catch a train to the Midland Jungle before admissions closed.

 

     That’s what the drink was telling Evan anyway. He knocked the barstool over when he rose to his feet, waving the flyer above his head as he slurred, “Pack it up, Crew! We’re making a detour!”

 

*

 

     The train would arrive any moment. Evan, Glenvar, Alaine, Jeimos, and Isaac waited at the station with all their gear on their backs. Lukas stood apart from them, arms crossed tightly over his chest. Hidden beneath his face wrap, his expression was scrunched into a bitter scowl.

 

     “Are you sure you’re not coming?” Evan asked him one last time.

Lukas practically spat his reply, “What do you think? _Uekoro_ , Evan? Really?”

“I’ve never been!” his captain argued. “Besides, this could be a good opportunity to make amends with your family, don’t you think?”

 

     “No, I don’t think! I told you before, I’d rather pluck out my eyes than set foot in that cesspit again!” hissed Lukas. He gestured to the facewrap. “Why do you think I’m wearing this stupid thing? As a fashion statement?”

“I think it looks quite fetching,” Jeimos added quietly.

Evan said, “If you just made up with your brother, you wouldn’t have to wear it anymore. Your whole village thinks you’re _dead_ for Gaia’s sake!”

 

     “Yes, and we’re keeping it that way!” barked Lukas. He jabbed his finger into his captain’s chest and spoke through his teeth, “If you just happen to exchange words with that big blowhard: you do not know me, you’ve never heard my name, and you’ve never seen me in your life. I am no one to you. Agreed?”

 

     Evan’s eyebrows arched. He raised his palms and said, “Very well then. So, uh, we shall see you back at HQ in a few days?”

Lukas turned around and began walking down the stairs of the platform. “I don’t talk to strangers,” he told them, and then he disappeared into the colorful crowd of travelers.

 

     The train arrived before long, approaching from the horizon like a thunderstorm. Like a rusty metal serpent it rattled on the tracks, pulled along by a couple hundred wildebeests harnessed to its sides. The animals slowed as they approached the station, and gradually the train screeched to a full stop.

 

     The journey from Kelloru to Uekoro would take all night. The mercenaries used the opportunity to sleep off the alcohol and rest before the tournament. They squeezed their way between other passengers lined up on the floor. There were no seats in these cars, just splintery wooden floors and open windows on either side.

 

     Once they found a spot, the crew threw their bags down and piled on top of them.

“What do you think the ‘mystery prize’ is?” Isaac yawned.

Alaine squinted at the tattered tournament flyer, but she could not find further details. “Not a clue,” she said. “But it says here you gotta beat the king of Uekoro in combat to win it.”

 

     “That’s Lukas’ brother,” Evan mentioned.

Glenvar chuckled, “Heh, what do ya think he’s like? Think he’s a jackass too?”

“You know, for as long as I’ve known Lukas, I’ve never actually met his family,” said Evan. “But if they’re anything like he says they are, I’m not sure I want to.”

 

     Glenvar waved a dismissive hand and said, “Aw, ya know Luke’s a big shite-talker! I bet they ain’t half that bad.”

Evan grinned and settled against his bag, pulling a straw hat over his tired eyes. “I suppose we’ll see for ourselves, won’t we?”

 

     The five of them were soon snoring the ride away.

 

*

 

     Golden sunlight poured over the village of Uekoro. Dewdrops glistened on the broad jungle leaves as morning birdsong filled the air. Serenity reigned now, but come high sun the village would be a wash of drunken chaos.

 

     The inn was packed with fighters from all over Matuzu Kingdom, every one of them hunting for glory and a chance to meet King Fanaka himself. The Freelance Good Guys were among them. They spent all morning stretching their muscles and practicing their moves, and now it was time to put those moves to the test.

 

     The arena was built only five years ago, now the largest building in Uekoro. It was even larger than Fanaka Palace looming high up on the hill. This arena was but a massive stone bowl, and in its center was a pit of blood-stained dirt. Its seats filled quickly while fighters waited for hours to check in. The queue was a mile long.

 

     Evan, Glenvar, Alaine, and Isaac waited all that time to enter. But only Evan was permitted into the arena, the rest denied and sentenced to watch their captain from the stands. They joined Jeimos in the frontmost seats, every one of them wearing a bitter frown.

 

     Jeimos mumbled over a corncob, “I thought you were joining the tournament.”

“They turned me away for being a woman!” cried Alaine. “Should have seen it coming. These stupid backwater villages, I swear!”

 

     Glenvar grumbled, “Turned me away fer bein’ too short…”

“And they said I was too young,” Isaac added. “You gotta be at least sixteen to enter. It didn’t say that anywhere on the flyer!”

 

     Glenvar rustled the boy’s curly hair and sighed, “Next year, squeaker. You’ll grow older sure enough, but I ain’t growin’ any taller…” Then he turned to Jeimos and queried, “Hey, how come you didn’t sign up? Yer the scariest one on our crew!”

 

     “I read the fine print,” replied Jeimos. “It said ‘no magic permitted’. And let’s be honest, chaps. Without magic, what am I but a wet noodle?”

Isaac slumped down in his seat and said, “Well, I hope Evan wins the mystery prize. It’s driving me crazy! I _have_ to know what it is!”

 

     In the fighter’s cage, the combatants awaited their turn in the pit. They watched the action from behind a door of iron bars, each one wearing iron shackles to ensure that no magic sneaked by. Evan scratched at these itchy shackles, thought it ridiculous that a human like himself should have to wear them. It wasn’t like commoners could wield magic like fae or gaians!

 

     “It’s just a formality,” the arena operators told him. These operators oversaw each combatant before they entered the cage, checking for hidden weapons. Like the others, Evan was stripped down and given tournament-approved cotton pants with leather boots. He glanced down at his peg leg, then handed the right boot back to the operator, who offered an awkward apology in return.

 

     He was asked to choose a weapon from the approved arsenal, where everything was made of palm wood. He chose a crude sword and board. A literal board. The shield was pathetic, just planks of rotten wood nailed together. The sword wasn’t much better.

 

     But Evan had a secret weapon that passed right under the operators’ noses: his lycanthropy. His inhuman strength, his endurance, his healing factor—none of that was _cheating_ , he reasoned. Because looking around the cage, he saw just what kind of behemoths he was up against.

 

     If having lycanthropy was cheating, then the roshava were cheating too by having four arms. The cecaelia were cheating even more with eight arms. Not to mention the trolls and centaurs, who should have been confined to a separate weight class entirely, Evan thought. This whole tournament was unfair from the start!

 

     The combatants were sent out by surname in alphabetical order. An elven acrobat and a roshavan swordsman were the first to set foot in the pit. Twelve seconds later, the unconscious elf was carried out by medics. The burly roshava raised his four swords in victory, basking in the cheers from his audience.

 

     There was not a bead of sweat on his red skin. He stood seven feet tall, long black hair tied into a bun atop his head. An operator stood in an outpost overlooking the pit. She called through her amplifier horn, “Victory to Doleesha Sarfeesha!”

 

     Doleesha returned to the cage for a reprieve while two other combatants walked out. In troll versus troll, both opponents preferred to use their fists and claws instead of weapons. When one troll finally collapsed, the operator announced, “Next round: Doleesha Sarfeesha versus Evan Atlas!

 

     Evan took a deep breath as an operator unlocked the iron door. He walked into the center of the arena, greeting the crowd with a wave. He spotted his crew in the stands, raising their palm wine bottles as they cheered and whooped, “Cap-tain! Cap-tain! Cap-tain!”

 

     Stopping before his opponent, Doleesha greeted him with a feral grin.

Evan smiled back and said, “Pleasure to do battle with you. May the best fighter win.”

“I’ll hit you so hard, your grandchildren will bruise,” Doleesha sneered. Evan’s brows jumped ever so slightly.

 

     From high on her outpost, the operator barked, “Fight!” A bell chimed and the crowd went wild as the opponents began to swing. Wood clacked against wood. Splinters flew. The roshava raised two of his swords and brought them down at once. Evan raised his shield just in time, but it immediately broke apart under the force.

 

     Boards rained around his feet as Evan blocked another blow with his sword. But his opponent had three arms to spare, used two of them to swing from the other side. The captain was knocked to the dirt and the operator in the outpost began counting down, “Five…Four…”

 

     Evan rolled into Doleesha’s ankles and sent the roshava toppling down with him. The crowd roared all around. Before the operator hit “two”, Evan sprang back to his feet and snatched one of his opponent’s swords. He used them both to block Doleesha’s next blow when he jumped up once again.

 

     “Get him, Atty!” Alaine screamed from the stands.

Glenvar leaned over the wall and cried, “Yer representin’ the Freelance Good Guys, Chief!”

Isaac’s eyes refused to blink, watching in silent anticipation. Meanwhile Jeimos’ refused to open, knees drawn to their chest as they muttered, “By the stars, he’ll be crushed to paste…!”

 

     With two sets of arms, the roshava was always defending at the same time he attacked. Evan couldn’t get a decent swing in—at least not this way. He realized if he was an amputee fighting a four-armed foe, he needed to make use of his other limbs to level the field.

 

     So Evan tossed both of his swords aside before dodging another swing. Then before Doleesha could draw his top set of arms back, Evan seized each one by the wrist. The captain threw himself onto his back, kicked his leg and peg forth, and rolled the roshava over him.

 

     Doleesha flipped, landing harshly on his back. White stars danced before his eyes as the wind was knocked from his lungs. In an instant Evan rolled him over and straddled him. He pinned Doleesha’s top set of arms with his own and the bottom set with his legs.

 

     The roshava wriggled beneath him, teeth gnashed together in fury. Evan’s muscles quaked as he held his opponent down, knew he could not do so forever. But he wasn’t expected to, for the operator called, “…Two…One…End round! Victory to Evan Atlas!”

 

     The roar of the crowd was deafening. People shot up from their seats in disbelief. Doleesha was escorted out of the arena while Evan returned to the cage. He guzzled cold water and watched the other combatants from a bench. He observed their moves carefully, noted how each victory was attained against each species.

 

     Centaurs were fast, but even faster to trip. The leathery skin of a troll was like natural armor, but they could be easily fooled into hurting themselves. Cecaelia may have had eight tentacles, but that meant their dexterity was stretched thin between them. They were prone to losing their grip on their weapons.

 

     With a combination of knowledge, brute strength, and the sheer dumb luck of the draw, Evan rose higher and higher in the ranks. Now his name stood proudly above all but one. Just before sunset, he found himself face to face with none other than King Jelani Fanaka.

 

     The king made a grandiose entrance into the pit. He entered not from the cage, but from his own private quarters at the top of the stands. Flanked by guards and dancing maenads, he greeted his screeching audience with a big bold smile. Evan watched from the pit while his opponent took his time strutting down the long stairway, stopping to kiss the hands of adoring women along his path.

 

     “In the final round,” began the operator, “Evan Atlas will face Uekoro’s great leader and undefeated champion, King Jelani Fanaka! Who shall walk away with this year’s mystery prize?”

 

     Isaac gasped, leaning forward with excitement. Jeimos clutched his shirt as he threatened to tip over the side of the wall. All in the arena stood tall and boomed their loudest for the king. All except the Freelance Good Guys, drunkenly cheering their captain on.

 

     Finally Jelani made his way to his mark, standing exactly six feet apart from Evan. Evan now wielded a heavy greatsword he’d stolen from an opponent five rounds ago, while Jelani just happened to wield the same.

 

     “Good choice!” Jelani told him. “I’m a greatsword man myself. Longer and harder the better, right?” He punctuated himself with a wink, teeth flashing behind a cheeky grin.

 

     Evan quirked an eyebrow. He knew he should speak, should say _something_ to show respect to the king. But he was taken aback by Jelani’s face. His piercing brown eyes, the gentle slope of his nose, the point of his chin…

 

     If Evan didn’t know better, he’d say Lukas was fooling him with one of his disguises. Twins indeed! But only fraternal, for Jelani’s brown skin was a few shades darker, his hair shaved down to the scalp. His broad shoulders dwarfed Lukas’ slender physique, but despite all of that, the Fanaka brothers shared the very same sly, crooked way of smiling.

 

     Evan cleared his throat and began, “Uh, it’s an honor to—”

Before he could finish, the bell sounded and the operator called, “Fight!”

 

     Jelani said, “Let me know how defeat tastes, Mr. Atlas. Never tried it myself.” Then with all the swiftness of a jaguar, he leaped into the air and took the first swing. Evan parried the blow and jumped back. So Lukas’ brother was a _shite-talker_ as well. Somehow Evan wasn’t surprised.

 

     Fighting another human made Evan feel at home after contending with tricky fae and beastly gaians all day. He knew roughly what to expect from Jelani, knew the limitations of his strength and agility. Jelani, on the other hand, never knew what hit him when the captain lifted him over his head and tossed him across the pit like a ragdoll.

 

     Dust billowed up when the king crashed down. He rolled several times, lost his grip on his weapon. Gasps and murmurs rumbled over the audience while the nervous operator hesitated. She brought the amplifier to her lips and slowly counted, “Five…F-four…”

 

     Jelani scrambled back to his feet. The countdown stopped. He stared back at Evan with eyes rounded and a jaw slacked in disbelief. The captain was charging towards him, ramming into him with his shoulder before Jelani could pick up his weapon. He rolled across the dirt once more.

 

     Evan carelessly threw his own sword aside and dropped his weight onto the king. The sword went spinning into the audience, clocking an unsuspecting food vendor. Buttered corncobs flew like a flock of birds.

 

     Jelani grunted when Evan landed atop his torso, seizing his wrists and pinning them above his head. Jelani wriggled and strained with all his might, but it wasn’t enough to move the 300 pounds of muscle straddling his waist. He looked up at the captain’s face, bloody and bruised and smeared with dirt from a full day of battle. Yet he fought as vigorously as if he’d just entered his first match. How could that be?

 

     “Five…four…” The operator was counting down in a decidedly hesitant manner. The audience murmured quietly, all except for Evan’s crew. They stuck out like a sore thumb in the stands, loudly whistling, cheering, spilling their drinks as they jumped up and down with excitement.

 

     “Three…Two…”

 

     Jelani suddenly realized this was no joke. Evan panted as he stared down at him with intensity, determination running deep through his features. Evan really intended to defeat him.

 

     “One…” the operator slowly drew out the number, her eyes darting about anxiously. Evan’s crew began heckling her three slow, drawn-out seconds ago.

“Just call the match, ya mumblin’ old bird!” urged Glenvar.

 

     “…End round!” she called, though her voice lacked all confidence. “Victory to, uh, Atlas!”

 

     The captain’s intensity gave way to a delighted smile. He scrambled to his feet and pulled Jelani up with him, shaking his hand all the while. Then he turned to the audience and raised his arms, ready to bask in their cheers of adoration.

 

     But those cheers never came. The crowd was deathly silent. They stared back at him like he’d grown a second head. Even his own crew had gone quiet, confused by the silence around them. Jelani stood by and idly brushed the dust from his pants as two guards rushed into the pit.

 

     The guards seized Evan’s arms and whisked him through an open archway. The archway led to the admission booth outside, where they cuffed him to a post by one of his iron shackles.

“Is there a problem?” Evan queried. “Have I been disqualified, or—”

“Silence. You will wait here until we return,” one of the guards told him, and then they were gone.

 

     So the captain leaned against the post, watching people file out of the arena in awkward, murmuring droves. Eventually his crew poured out with them.

 

     “What’s the big idea? Didn’t ya win?” blurted Glenvar.

Evan looked just as confused as they did when he replied, “Well, I thought so! Perhaps they’re just fetching my mystery prize?”

“Mystery prize…” Isaac gasped. His eyes were beaming with wonder.

 

     Then someone else approached them; a tall, slim man wearing a headwrap that obscured all but his eyes.

“Lukas? I thought you went home!” Evan exclaimed.

Lukas clamped a hand over his friend’s mouth and whispered harshly, “Don’t use my name around here! And I changed my mind. Hopped on the next train after you because I knew you’d do something stupid—and what do you know?”

 

     Evan shook his head in bewilderment. “I don’t even understand what I’ve done! I’m not in some kind of trouble, am I?”

“Evan,” Lukas began, scrubbing at his eyes, “you defeated the king of Uekoro in his own arena, in his own village, in front of his own people. Damn right you’re in trouble!”

 

     “What’s wrong with that? Is it a tournament or not?” queried Alaine.

“Nobody _ever_ beats the king!” explained Lukas. “You’re supposed to throw the match, it’s a formality! Everyone knows that. Were you born in a barn?”

 

     Evan replied, “As a matter of fact, I was!” After a moment his brows sagged and he sighed, “But I do see your point. I suppose this was all just a cultural misunderstanding. My mistake…”

 

     They saw the guards returning in the distance, hard to miss in their vibrant green armor and helms of colorful feathers. Lukas cursed and muttered, “I have to go,” and then he scurried off into the crowd. The rest of the crew remained by Evan’s side as the guards unlocked his shackle from the post.

 

     “King Fanaka wishes to speak with you in private,” one of the guards told him. Evan looked back at his friends, all regarding him with anxious eyes.

“We’ll meet you back at the inn later?” suggested Alaine.

“Hopefully,” Evan nodded, and then he followed the guards down the winding dirt road to the palace.

 

     Uekoro was miserably humid during the day. Now it was cooling off as the sun sank beneath the emerald jungle. Elven slaves walked the streets with long wooden staffs, tapping them against each street lamp. The lamps lit up one by one, casting a warm glow all across the village.

 

     As he climbed the stairs to the palace, Evan heard the chirping of _setsiki_ all around. He could see them hopping about high in the trees, little golden monkeys with ringed tails. The palace ahead was tall and imposing, built from stone and lumber. Its pointed thatched rooftops pierced the mist in the sky.

 

     The guards escorted Evan through the ornate ivory doors, through the entrance hall and into a conference room. There was Jelani, already washed and dressed in fine beaded clothes. There were no less than a dozen chairs surrounding the round table, yet he chose to sit on the edge of the tabletop.

 

     His eyes flashed up from his goblet. A grin spread across his face when he saw Evan, and quickly he ushered the guards away. They bowed to him as they left, the heavy door clunking shut behind them. Evan looked around at the rich burgundy hues of the room, the fine woods and ivory statues. The lofty ceiling seemed to stretch on forever.

 

     And here he stood, half-naked, smeared with dirt and blood. He couldn’t imagine he was making a good impression.

 

     The king drifted to a side table, began pouring a second goblet of wine as he said, “You know, no one has ever been so bold as to defeat the king at his own tournament…”

“My deepest apologies, Your Highness,” blurted Evan. “I’ve travelled far from my home in central Noalen. I understand now that I have disrespected your local customs, and for that I am truly sorry.”

 

     When Jelani turned around, he was not wearing a scowl. Rather, he was chuckling as he handed the second goblet to Evan. “Spare me, Atlas,” he said. He leaned back against the table once more, swirling his drink. He took a sip before he continued, “I don’t think you realize what you’ve done for me today. That was the most exhilarating match of my life!”

 

     The captain’s brows arched. He wasn’t sure what to say, feared he may get himself in trouble, so he raised the goblet to his lips. Jelani went on, “But who’s to say it was a _fair_ fight?”

 

     Evan jolted, coughed over the wine. Did he know? Was his lycanthropy so obvious?

 

     “I’m not used to honesty, you know. Such earnest passion could catch a king off-guard,” Jelani continued. He approached Evan and seized him by the chin. The calm of his voice hardly matched his strong grip. To Evan, that grip felt like a theat. He dared not move, staring ahead as the king told him, “Besides, I think myself a gentleman. I really hate to bruise a pretty face.”

 

     He smiled and slowly his grip loosened. He brushed his fingertips along Evan’s jaw when he withdrew, laughed, “Ha! I jest, Mr. Atlas. Don’t get nervous. But I _would_ like to ask one favor of you.”

Evan cleared his throat, damning the crack in his voice when he replied, “Of course, Your Highness. Anything.”

 

     Jelani set his goblet aside, crossed his arms over his chest. “I want a rematch. Tomorrow at high sun. One on one, sword to sword, just like before.”

 

     Evan’s goblet hovered half-way to his mouth. He lowered it back down and replied, “A rematch? Er, yes, I’d be happy to! It’s most generous of you to give me a second chance.” He paused. “Now, just so there is no further misunderstanding…Should I take a fall this time, as I should have done before?”

 

     The king regarded him with a sly smile. He simply said, “You decide.”

 

*

 

     Evan returned to the inn at nightfall. His crew surrounded him in their shared suite, bombarding him with questions all at once. Evan raised his hands to silence them, said, “Relax, relax, I’ll tell you everything! Just let me settle in, will you?”

 

     The five of them followed their captain like hungry strays as he scrubbed the grime off his face and slipped on a shirt. His clothes were still back at the arena and he figured he could pick them up tomorrow.

 

     “What was the mystery prize?” Isaac blurted, unable to contain it anymore.

“Forget that! What did Jelani say?” asked Lukas.

Evan finally settled in the common area, the others sitting around him. “I never received a prize,” he explained, “because the king thinks it wasn’t a fair fight. He wants a rematch tomorrow.”

 

     Lukas rolled his eyes. “Pff. Sore loser. How very like him…”

Evan turned to his archer and added, “But he said he really enjoyed the first fight, and throwing the match or not is up to me. Lukas, what should I do?”

 

     Lukas explained, “Look, the rematch is just a formality. It’s a way for Jelani to save face in front of the village. To prove to them that the first loss was just a fluke and that he’s still the great champion he thinks he is.”

 

     He went silent in thought for a long moment. The others anxiously awaited his answer.

 

     Finally he finished, “You know what? Beat him again.”

Murmurs of surprise spread over the crew. Evan’s brows shot up and he queried, “Really?”

Lukas nodded. “Sure, it’ll be good for him. He needs someone to knock him down a notch. The man’s ego is more bloated than a dead pig.”

 

     “Er, Lukas?” Jeimos broke in. “Are you quite sure this won’t get Mr. Atlas in trouble?”

The archer waved a hand. “Trust me. If my brother was that sour about it, we’d be talking to Evan’s tombstone by now.” He turned back to his captain. “It would make my day—in fact, it would make my _year_ to see Jelani get knocked on his ass again in front of everyone in Uekoro. Will you do it for me?”

 

     Evan didn’t like the idea. His brain was pulling him away, but his heart pulled him towards Lukas. In the end his heart won the battle, and Evan agreed, “If that’s what you really want, Lukas, then I’ll give an honest effort.”

 

*

 

     The arena was even more packed today than the last. Word of the rematch spread like wildfire. Operators declared free admission to draw as many eyes as possible to their king’s redemption.

 

     But for all the people in the stands, there were only two combatants and one round. Operators worked tirelessly for hours, preparing for a match that likely wouldn’t break twenty minutes.

     Once again Evan’s crew was in attendance, front and center to watch what they hoped would be his victory.

 

     “If he wins this one, will he get the mystery prize?” asked Isaac.

Lukas sighed, “There is no mystery prize, Isaac.”

“What?” The boy’s jaw fell slack. In an instant all the excitement drained from his face. “But it said on the flyer! How come there’s no prize?”

“Because no one ever wins!” Lukas told him. “At least, no one’s _supposed_ to. They just mention a prize as a formality.”

 

     Below, the iron door opened and Evan stepped into the pit. His nerves jittered as the vast sea of faces booed him, heckling and jamming their thumbs down. He glanced at his crew to his right, doing just the opposite. Glenvar turned around and scolded the audience, “Shut up ‘n kiss my arse, ya mutts!”

 

     He yanked his pants down and waggled his backside at them for good measure. Lukas quickly yanked them back up, shoving Glenvar back in his seat. Evan saw the whole ordeal and let out a groan, scrubbing at the bridge of his nose. Whether he threw the match or not, they’d be lucky to get out of here in one piece.

 

     The moment Jelani stepped into the pit, the crowd’s booing roared to cheering. Twirling maenads scattered flower petals around the pit before disappearing through a doorway. From her outpost, the operator announced, “Today we are witness to a rematch between yesterday’s supposed victor, Evan Atlas, and our greatest champion and liege, King Jelani Fanaka!”

 

     The cheers exploded after his name, quieting once more when the operator continued, “This final match will determine this year’s true champion of Uekoro! Combatants, to your marks. Ready your weapons…And fight!”

 

     The bell chimed, hardly audible behind the yelling and stomping in the stands. Evan made the first move this time, sweeping his sword at his opponent’s feet. Jelani leaped, clearing the wooden blade like a jump-rope, and as he came down he jabbed his weapon against Evan’s gut.

 

     The lycanthrope grunted and reeled back. He swiped the flesh and glanced at his palm. No blood. They exchanged swings back to back, rapid and furious. The force behind Evan’s last swing was so great, it sent the king stumbling, and Evan used the opportunity to kick him down.

 

     Jelani rolled once, twice, a third time. The world spun before his eyes, dazed and disbelieving of the captain’s strength.

“Five…Four…” began the operator. He saw Evan charging him again, but this time he wouldn’t be caught off-guard. Jelani shot up and tackled his opponent’s legs. The two rolled across the dirt.

 

     Evan lost his sword in the scramble. Jelani rolled on top of him and pressed his own sword sideways against the man’s throat. He pressed his full weight onto Evan’s torso, 200 pounds or so, the operator counting down again as Evan struggled beneath him.

 

     The struggle was brief. Evan pushed the sword away from his neck, the force toppling Jelani onto his back. Jelani lost his grip and Evan stole his sword. The crowd was going wild, the mercenary crew watching anxiously. At this point it was anyone’s match.

 

     Jelani scrambled backwards, swiping Evan’s sword off the ground and shooting to his feet in one movement. Now they were back where they began: standing six feet apart, weapon to weapon. But this time, sweat was pouring down Jelani’s face, all the way down to his heaving chest.

 

     Meanwhile Evan was hardly winded. Had he a clockwork heart with lungs of iron? What were they feeding the men in central Noalen? Jelani had to wonder as he parried two more forceful blows, but his own fatigue failed him on the third. He wasn’t quick enough and Evan’s greatsword collided with his shoulder, casting him back in the dirt.

 

     Jelani lie on his back, mouth agape as he struggled for air. Lifelessly he propped his torso up, then Evan’s boot pressed him back down. The captain pinned the king under his left foot while the sea of faces around him protested wildly. All the while he was stony and silent, wearing a frown that Jelani could swear looked apologetic.

 

     But the king’s vision was blurring now and nothing was certain. His heart pounded like a war drum. He struggled for the first three agonizingly long seconds of the countdown. Then in the last two, exhaustion mercifully claimed him. His body went limp and his head collapsed against the dirt.

 

     “End round! Victory to Evan Atlas, new champion of Uekoro!” the operator announced. The crowd fell quiet, only low murmurs and a few awkward claps among them.

 

     One voice rose above them all. Evan turned to his crew, wincing at Lukas’ hysterical laughter.

 

*

 

     After the match, Evan was apprehended by guards again. This time he was certain he’d made the wrong choice, for they escorted him from the arena straight to the palace dungeon. What he was in for or how long he was in for, they refused to say.

 

     So Evan waited in a dark little cell, identical to the other dozens of cells in the maze-like dungeon. The screams and rants of other prisoners echoed off the damp stone walls. How much time had passed in there he couldn’t say, for there was no sunlight and not a clock to be seen. Two or three hours at least, he thought.          

 

     Then the guards finally returned. They ignored his questions and simply told him, “King Fanaka wishes to speak with you.” Evan had no choice but to follow them to the conference room, the very same he visited yesterday. Today Jelani was seated properly in a chair, leaning with an arm resting over the back.

 

     He was dressed in a fine beaded robe, his body cleansed and his wounds tended. He waved the guards away and pointed Evan to the seat beside him. Sheepishly Evan sat down, folding his filthy hands in his filthy lap. He had a hundred pounds on the king, yet he was feeling so small before him.

 

     “So,” began Jelani. He was wearing a grin most mild. “Twice now, you decided to make an ass of me in front of my people…”

Evan’s lips pressed tightly together. If only he were a tortoise, he could hide in his shell. But he was only human, so he apologized instead, “I’m sorry, Your Highness. I take no pride in my decisions today.”

 

     Quirking an eyebrow, Jelani said, “Is that so? Then I ask you, why didn’t you throw the match?”

The captain closed his eyes, letting out a deep sigh. “It was a favor,” he began honestly, cautiously, “for someone I care for very much. They didn’t want me to lose and, well, I would do anything for them. Even challenge a king, apparently."

 

     Jelani rested his elbow on the table, propping his chin on his hand. He scrutinized Evan for a moment, then he replied, “I see. So your wife is running the show then, is she? I assume you must have kids, a little life back up north…”

 

     “Oh,” Evan hesitated, swiping at his neck, “uh, I’m not married, no. No children either. I’m a mercenary, you see. I just have my crew and we travel quite a lot.” His gaze strayed around the room as he began to ramble, “It’s hard to settle down, you know, when you’re always on the move. I just have so much on my plate already, and with all the work-related hazards in my life I couldn’t imagine—”

 

     “Sure, sure,” Jelani broke in with a dismissive wave, “no need to justify it. Believe it or not, sharp and dashing as I am, I haven’t married yet either. Just haven’t met the right one is all.”

 

     His mild grin spread into something more sincere. Leaning his back against the chair again, Jelani propped his feet on the table and continued, “Anyway, I can’t say I fault you for loyalty and courage to those dear to you. Those are respectable qualities to have.”

 

     Evan finally picked his gaze off the floor. Jelani went on, “I also would like to compliment you on your fighting prowess. I said before that yesterday’s match was my best, but you’ve really outdone yourself today. This match was even better! So of course I’d like to know: where on Gaia did you learn to fight?”

 

     The captain’s face finally relaxed ever so slightly. His thin lips curled into a smile when he replied, “Why, _everywhere_! As I said, I travel a lot. And everywhere I go, I delight in observing the martial culture. I’ve received training from veteran soldiers of all the Great Kingdoms. I’ve trained under town militia, monster hunters, nomads, slavers, even an assassin or two over the years. I’ve been in this line of work for about two decades.”

 

     Jelani’s dark brows jumped. “Most impressive,” he said. “I’ve been practicing martial arts since I was a boy. Hand to hand, swordsmanship, archery, all the basics. But I trained only under the Matuzan military, so obviously my experience is very limited compared to yours.”

 

     The king’s eyes narrowed as he looked Evan over. He mumbled into his hand, “I think I’m beginning to understand now…”

“Er, understand what?” Evan queried.

“Why I lost so miserably to you,” replied Jelani, “and yet, how you’ve managed to captivate me regardless. I’m not angry with you. I’m not bitter at all.”

 

     He leaned his elbows on the table. “In fact, I feel it’s only right that you receive some kind of reward for your victory. Knowing what I do now, I realize that going blade-to-blade with you was a damn fine honor.”

 

     “That’s very kind of you,” said Evan. “It was an honor for me too. I’ve heard so much about the great King Fanaka, but I never imagined I’d meet him in person.”

 

     It was not a lie. Evan heard a lot of stories about King Fanaka indeed. All of them from Lukas, and none of them nice. But a lot of stories regardless.

 

     Jelani chuckled, “I think we’re one and the same, Atlas. Men of strength and honor. Men who train hard and fight hard for our own. Wouldn’t you agree?”

“Yes, I would say so.”

 

     “Then how do you feel about a vacation here in beautiful Uekoro?” suggested Jelani. “Three days, all expenses paid. I’ll put you up in the palace as a guest of honor, and if you feel so inclined, maybe you can teach me a thing or two on the training grounds?”

 

     Evan opened his mouth to speak, but the words didn’t come right away. They hadn’t left his brain yet. He took a moment to think it over, knew Lukas wouldn’t be happy about running the company while he was away. It was a big job. Often chaotic, always stressful.

 

     Then he looked at Jelani, smiling warmly back at him. So much like Lukas’ smile, he thought, and figured the king was right. He won the tournament fair and square. He was entitled to that mystery prize, and after busting his knuckles for the company for nearly two decades maybe it was time for a break too. It was only three days, after all.

 

     “It would be my pleasure,” he told the king.

 

*

 

     Back at the inn, Evan began packing his bags while his crew trailed him around the suite.

“Do you want to know what the mystery prize is, Isaac?” The captain grinned.

Isaac’s face lit up like a star. “Yes! Please!”

 

     “It’s a vacation,” Evan explained. “The king was pleased with my victory. He’s invited me to stay at the palace as a guest of honor!”

 

     “Wow!”

“Congratulations, Atty!”

“Didn’t see that coming!” said his crew. All except Lukas, staring dumbfounded at his captain.

 

     Evan closed his suitcase and clamped a hand on his archer’s shoulder. “You’re in charge while I’m away, Lukas,” he said. “It’ll only be three days. There’s a stack of contracts on my desk awaiting approval. I’d like those sorted by the time I return, and be sure to pay Ginger for her housekeeping—”

 

     Lukas pushed his hand away and interrupted, “Hold on! I don’t like this, Evan. You don’t know Jelani like I do. He’s got to have some kind of ulterior motive.”

“Fer gods’ sakes!” Glenvar added from the couch. He uncapped a beer bottle with his teeth and continued, “Yer never happy about a damn thing! Every time somethin’ good happens, leave it to Lulu to kill a smile!”

 

     Alaine crossed her arms, leaning against the doorframe to the kitchen. “Yeah, Lukas. You’ve been so negative this entire trip and like, honestly, I’m getting really sick of the attitude.”

 

     “Are you kidding me?” the archer barked, shooting a look at each of them. “If it weren’t for my _negativity_ , you guys wouldn’t last a day in the Midlands. You’re in _my_ domain now, so when I say something isn’t right here, you’d do well to shut up and listen!”

 

     Evan told him gently, “I appreciate your concern, my friend. Your cautious nature is certainly an asset to the crew. However, you must consider how long it’s been since you’ve spoken to your brother. People do grow and change. He seemed like a very kind, good-humored man to me.”

 

     Lukas rolled his eyes and scoffed, “Sure, don’t trust my word or anything. I only came from the same womb as the guy…”

“Your thoughts have been noted,” Evan said, picking up his suitcase. “But I’d prefer to find out for myself. I still think you should use this opportunity to speak with him.”

 

     The archer shook his head. “Absolutely not! Just go. Go and get screwed over, but don’t come crying to me when it happens.”

Evan let out a long sigh through his nostrils. Then he forced a smile to the rest of his crew and bid them farewell. “I’ll see you all back at home,” he said. “Be good for Captain Fanaka while I’m away.”

 

     “Don’t sweat, Chief. You know us, we’re perfect gentlefolk,” Glenvar snickered, tossing his empty bottle towards the trash barrel. It missed its mark and shattered on the floor. The door closed behind Evan and the crew turned to their new captain with dismay.

 

     “Um, shall we prepare to leave now, Mr. Fanaka?” asked Jeimos. Lukas stood in the middle of the room, hands planted on his hips. He remained silent in thought for a long moment.

Then he pointed to Alaine and said, “That’s up to her. As captain of this crew, I order Fontaine to take my place until I return.”

 

     “Huh?” Alaine quirked an eyebrow. “I thought you hated this place. Why are you staying?”

Lukas tipped his head towards the door. “Because _someone_ has to babysit that hard-headed idiot. I know both Evan and Uekoro like the back of my hand, so it may as well be me.”

 

*

 

     When Evan returned to the palace, he was greeted by an elven slave. She was tall and slim, typical of her people, clad in only a crude patchwork dress and iron shackles around her wrists. Her straight black hair was cut into a choppy box-shape around her face.

 

     An elf’s age was impossible to determine on looks alone. But Evan assumed by the quake in her voice that she must have been long passed her prime. She said to him, “King Fanaka is occupied now, so he told me to see you to the guest chamber. Follow me.”

 

     Evan did so, trailing the elfenne up a creaky wooden staircase. At the end of a long hall, she opened the door to a pristine bedroom all in deep earth tones. It was a contrast to the rest of the palace, of which its motifs were a vibrant rainbow of color.

 

     “The king says you may use anything in this room as you see fit,” said the elfenne, gesturing to the bookshelves to one side and the heavy wardrobe to the other.

 

     “Thank you, Ms., uh,” began Evan. He paused. “Forgive me, I don’t believe I got your name.”

She turned to him, looking puzzled. “Oh. It’s Sabrani.”

 

     “Pleasure to meet you, Sabrani,” Evan smiled. “I’m Captain Evan Atlas. Is there anything else I should know about the palace?”

Sabrani replied, “Only what you wish to ask. It’s my duty to see that you’re comfortable.”

 

     Evan nodded and set his two bags on the large double-bed. The mattress was overstuffed with what felt like cotton, sheets of fine textiles. The wooden canopy was decorated with garlands of colorful beads. He began to unpack. When he turned to hang his clothes in the wardrobe, he saw Sabrani still standing there by the doorway, hands casually folded before her.

 

     “Uh,” Evan cleared his throat, “I think that’s all I need now, Sabrani. Thank you.”

“Very well,” she said. Yet there she remained, forcing a polite smile back at him.

“You’re free to go…” Evan said slowly.

 

     Her expression was changing, brows sagging above desperate eyes. Still she maintained her smile when she spoke to him, as if speaking to a child, “I am aware that I can, if I choose. But it would be punishable by lashing for a servant to act without _direct,_ _concise_ orders from a superior.”

 

     Realization arched Evan’s brows high. “Oh,” he began, “I see. In that case, please leave me for now. I will send for you if I need your help again.”

Then the elfenne’s face softened into something more genuine. “Thank you, Sir,” she said, and then she disappeared behind the door.

 

     Slavery was a familiar concept to Evan, having grown up with goblin slaves on his family’s farm. But that didn’t mean he was comfortable with it, and Uekoro seemed to have a different relationship with its slaves than he was used to. This place was full of formalities and Evan knew it was only a matter of time before he committed more cultural blunders.

 

     If only Lukas were here to guide him, he thought, then he would feel right at home. Once his belongings were put away, Evan collapsed onto the bed and reveled in its softness. Much better than the hard, reeking, flea-infested cots he just barely tolerated at the average inn.

 

     He was missing Lukas already. Missing him so much that he could practically smell him. Evan opened his eyes and sat up. Actually, he _could_ smell him.

 

     A lycanthrope’s nose was a powerful thing, for better or worse. He lowered his face to the sheets and the scent was even stronger. He followed it up to the pillow, down to the wooden floor and up the wall.

 

     The entire room smelled exactly like Lukas. He shouldn’t be surprised, he figured, as his best friend did spend the first twenty or so years of his life in this palace. It made his heart ache though, to have Lukas so close and yet so far away. So Evan left the room and wandered the palace halls. Almost every hall was open to the air via large arch-shaped windows, allowing a cool breeze pass through at all times.

 

     He passed by many doors. From behind one of them, Evan’s lycanthrope ears picked up a woman’s voice. It was weak and sickly, and it was calling for help. Without hesitation, Evan burst through the door.

 

     “Ma'am?” he called, squinting in the darkness. This bedroom was lit only by a single oil lamp on the dresser. The end tables were scattered with medical supplies, and in the corner was a wheelchair with an old woman lying beside it.

 

     “I’ve fallen! Someone help!” the woman croaked.

Evan hurried to her aid and assured her, “Fear not. I’ve got you,” as he lifted her frail body with ease and placed her back in the chair.

 

     Upon her face were thick round glasses and she was clad in a fine dress of loud patterns. Her gray hair was bound in braids and pulled back into a bun. Even in the dim light her skin appeared deathly pale. “There you are,” Evan smiled. “May I do anything else for you, Ma’am?”

 

     “I am no ‘Ma’am’!” The woman shouted, though in her weakness it was hardly loud. She slapped at Evan and went on, “I am ‘Lady Moswen’ to you, you brutish hog! Look here,” she pointed to her shoulder, “how you’ve bruised me with all your man-handling! Do not touch me again or I shall have you thrown in the dungeon!”

 

     Evan thought that strange, didn’t recall ever touching her shoulder. He stepped backwards. “My apologies,” he said. He exposed his palms to show he meant no harm, but it didn’t seem to matter. Miss Fanaka was still berating him as he passed through the doorway and gently closed the door. He could still hear her fussing from in the hall as he sheepishly walked away.

 

     So, he'd encountered the lovely Fanaka matriarch. Lukas had a lot to say about her indeed, and now it was clear why.

 


	2. UEKORAN WELCOME

##  **[CHAPTER 2: UEKORAN WELCOME]**

 

     Jelani returned later that night and showed Evan to the training yard. It was but a small dirt courtyard with balconies overlooking it from all sides. “The guards train here during the day,” he explained. “But at night, this place is all mine.”

 

     The area was lit by hanging brass lanterns. Candles flickered inside, casting the yard in a warm glow. Jelani picked two wooden greatswords from the wall. He tossed one to Evan, then began pulling off his shirt as he said, “Just a quick match. Tournament rules. No head shots—to either head.” He smirked.

 

     Evan stripped off his own shirt, folded it and set it aside. He heard giggling from above and saw at least a dozen maenads gathering on the top balcony to watch them.

 

     They were nymphs of spirit, beings shaped like beautiful women with pointed ears. Their skin was in shades of brown, all of their eyes, hair, and lips a rosy-pink. White crescent-shaped marks adorned their foreheads.

 

     The maenads were clad in revealing veils and fine gold jewelry. Unlike the elven slaves, there were no shackles upon their wrists. Some of them carried an enchanted golden amphora, said to contain endless amounts of wine. They regarded Evan with flirtatious waves and dancing. He swiped at his neck, turned back to Jelani.

 

     “Combatants to your marks!” one of the nymphs called. Once Evan and Jelani were in place, she exclaimed, “Fight!” then she and the other maenads began to cheer. The opponents lunged at eachother with swords raised high. Wood clashed against wood, Evan’s force knocking Jelani back a few paces.

 

     The king recovered quickly and dodged another blow, whirling around to strike Evan in the back. Just as he turned around, he was jabbed in the chest. He blocked the next hit and then swung low. Jelani jumped over his sword, then performed an unnecessary backflip before blowing a kiss to the maenads above.

 

     The maenads cheered them on,

“I love you, my king!”

“Beat him for me, my king!”

“I want the foreigner to win!”

“Hit him again, big boy!”

 

     The fight raged on for all of ten minutes before Evan had Jelani disarmed. He trapped him in a headlock, threw them both to the ground. The king struggled in his iron grip while the maenads counted down together.

 

     “…Two…One…End round!” they called.

“Victory to Foreign Guy!”

“I saw him cheat!”

“You did not!”

“You’ll defeat him next time, my king!”

 

     Then they reached into their baskets and tossed flower petals into the yard. Petals flitted down like confetti while Evan helped Jelani back to his feet.

 

“Whew…” Jelani grinned as he caught his breath, offering his opponent a handshake and a pat on the back. “Made a fool of me yet again, Atlas. If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were a beast in human skin!”

 

     Evan let out a nervous laugh, raking his fingers through his short hair. The maenads filed off the balcony, down the stairs to line up before them in the yard. Jelani continued, gesturing to the maenads, “As the victor, you get first choice. Which of these lovely ladies do you fancy for the night?”

 

     The nymphs batted their long pink lashes at the mercenary, tossing their hair and making obscene gestures. More than one drizzled wine over their cleavage. Evan’s face flushed just as pink as their eyes. To a different man, he was sure these charming enchantresses were irresistible. They all seemed more than enthused...Yet he couldn’t be less interested.

 

     A strained smile crossed Evan’s face as he stammered, “Oh, uh, n-no thank you. It’s been a rough match. I’m quite tired.”

“Tired?” Jelani laughed and slapped the man’s arm. “Look at you. You flipped me head-over-heels and you haven’t broken a sweat! Cruel of you to win their hearts only to leave them cold, don’t you think?”

 

     Evan glanced back at the ladies. Then he shook his head and snatched his shirt off the ground. He spoke as he slipped it back on, “It’s a generous offer, Your Highness. I’m just not in the mood is all.”

 

     The maenads exchanged looks of concern, murmuring amongst themselves. Jelani tilted his head. “Not in the mood for _these_ beauties? Ha.” His full lips curled. “I knew it. So you play for the home team then.”

Evan straightened the hem of his top, quirking his brow at the king. “I’m sorry?”

 

     Jelani showed him a crooked, knowing smile. “I had you figured from the start, Atlas. I know exactly what you are!”

Evan’s gut suddenly twisted, blood running cold with panic. If the king discovered his lycanthropy—

 

     “You’re a merryman, aren’t you?” queried Jelani. Evan’s shoulders twitched. He paused for a moment, locked in his tension.

“Uh…”

“It’s alright if you are,” said Jelani. “I know it’s backwards up north. But here in Matuzu’s great kingdom, I daresay we’re all a bit merry.”

 

     He winked at the mercenary, playfully slapping his arm with one of the swords. He returned the weapons to the wall of hooks, affixing them securely. Meanwhile Evan’s posture was slowly relaxing. His panicked heart settled. He threw a glance to the maenads, all whispering amongst themselves.

 

     His sensitive ears heard their gossip clear as a bell.

“He doesn’t think us beautiful…”

“His heart only thumps for menfolk…”

“I did my hair for this…?”

 

     “I…” Evan began carefully. “I am, yes. How did you know?”

Jelani sauntered back to him, picking up his own shirt and tossing it to the maenads. They scrambled to catch it like a wedding bouquet. He replied with a shrug, “Call it intuition. The look in your eye, the bounce in your step…”

 

     “Well, I do have one leg,” Evan said.

Jelani shot him a look, then a laugh boomed out from deep in his belly. “And the cut of your humor! Ah, it’s a shame the Spirit crafts Her nymphs so feminine. All these lovelies, and not a single one to your liking.”

 

     “I’m not troubled by it,” Evan told him. “Really. I thank you for your kindness and hospitality, Your Highness. Your village is a most enchanting place.”

The king whistled, prompting the maenads to flock to him like metal to a magnet. He threw his arms around them and told Evan, “Please, we’ve shed eachother’s blood. Call me ‘Jelani’.”

 

     With that, he and the maenads made their exit back into the palace. Just before he crossed the doorway, Jelani called back, “Pleasant dreams. Talk to that servant, Whats-Her-Name, should you need anything at all.”

 

*

 

     Plush as his bed was, Evan struggled to sleep that night. The day’s dialogue haunted him as he closed his eyes, playing over and over relentlessly.

 

     He felt there was something between the lines that he was too inept to understand. Evan was raised to speak like a gentleman in polite company. But at the end of the day, his youth had been an isolated and awkward experience he had yet to recover from.

 

     Lukas’ scent was like a ghost drifting into Evan’s dreams. Dreams most troublesome, for when the bedroom door creaked open he groggily scrambled to cover himself with the sheets. Sabrani peeked in and said, “Breakfast will be served within the hour, Sir. The king has requested your attendance.”

 

     Evan sat up in the bed. He was bathed in sweat, hair like scattered hay, barely awake enough to understand. “Alright…Thank you…” he mumbled, rubbing the sleep from his eye. The bedspread was still bunched in his lap and he couldn’t move it before this unwitting elfenne.

 

     But she was still standing there, silent, staring. Evan waited. Still she remained. Then he remembered, “You’re dismissed, Sabrani.”

“Good day, Sir,” she smiled and disappeared. The door clicked shut behind her.

 

     If this was breakfast with his crew, Evan would show up half-dressed with drool on his face. But that would never do at the table with royalty. So he swiped his peg leg leaning at the bedside and stumbled into the private bathroom. Strange, he thought, that the palace had plumbing while the inn did not. He wondered how many of Uekoro’s villagers enjoyed such a luxury.

 

     He cleaned his teeth with baking soda, a rag, and potable, parasite-free water from the sink. He washed under a warm shower, feeling no need to rush as it didn’t freeze him to the bone. The lycanthropy reared its ugly head every morning when it put a short beard on his face. So Evan shaved it smooth, then trimmed an inch from his hair and combed it down sleekly. He’d be damned before he let Jelani see him looking like a hairy, unkempt animal.

 

     Evan rifled through his clothes and found not one outfit suitable for the occasion. He searched every drawer in the room. All the clothes here were far too small, some only fit for a child. His steel armor was the most dignified ensemble he had, so he polished every plate and stepped out of the room gleaming like fine jewelry.

 

     Sabrani was waiting outside the door. She led him to the dining room, where bustling slaves tended to the palace’s favored personnel seated at the long table.

 

     Among them were several guards, maenads, some people Evan didn’t recognize, and Moswen. The old woman sat in her wheelchair with a slave standing on either side of her.

 

     One slave chewed a mouthful of food and spit it back into the spoon. When they raised it to her lips, Moswen slapped it to the floor and snarled, “Smaller bites, you hobbish fool! Are you trying to choke me?”

 

     At the head of the table was Jelani, finely dressed with a beaded crown around his head. He spotted Evan and waved him over, gesturing to the empty seat right beside him. Sabrani trailed Evan to the chair and pulled it out for him. Without a word she began filling his plate with food from the sumptuous feast before him.

 

     Or he _would_ think it sumptuous, if he even had a clue what half of it was. In the center was an entire roasted warthog with a fruit lodged in its mouth. Surrounding it were dishes of various colors and textures he couldn’t identify. There was a platter of sugared locusts, fried frogs arranged artfully on a plate, and hard-boiled eggs with colorful painted shells.

 

     It smelled appetizing, most of it, especially to Evan’s sensitive nose. Lycanthropy made ravenous dogs from picky eaters. Jelani stood up and raised his goblet, commanding attention of the whole room. “Ladies, gentlemen, and servants! We have a guest of honor in the palace today,” he announced.

 

     He clamped his hand on Evan’s shoulder and continued, “This is Evan Atlas. He is a famed warrior in the Blue Valley up north. You will treat him with the same respect you show me, and you may start by giving him a proper Uekoran greeting.”

 

     Evan offered a sheepish wave. “It’s very nice to meet y—” he began, and then everyone at the table stood up and surrounded him in a flurry of cheers. They emptied their goblets of wine onto his head, and just as suddenly as it began, the ritual was over.

 

     They returned to their seats, leaving Evan frozen in shock and soaked with palm wine. So much for his effort in looking presentable, he thought. Jelani tossed a cloth napkin to him and laughed, “Now you’re an official Uekoran, my friend! Get your fill and make yourself at home. Servants,” he pointed to some nearby slaves, then to the floor under Evan, “clean this up when he’s through.”

 

     The chatter of people and clatter of dishes filled the room once again. Evan wiped the sticky wine from his head and shoulders. There was a plate piled with mysterious cuisine ahead of him and he was excited to try it all. But when he picked up his fork, it burned his fingers like fire.

 

     Evan dropped the utensil and looked at his fingertips. Raw, irritated. He looked back at the tarnished fork and realized it was made of silver. His gaze flicked to his other utensils sitting on a napkin. Silver, silver, silver, every one of them!

 

     This fine material was a statement to the king’s wealth. But it did not bode well for a lycanthrope, who may as well be touching molten rock. Evan began to sweat. He looked around the table, saw all the people laughing and enjoying their meals. They didn’t notice anything strange…Yet.

 

     Perhaps finger-foods were his best bet here. Evan saw a bowl of shiny red fruits nearby. He snatched one and bit into it. It had the crisp of an apple and juiciness of a tomato. It also had the rock-hard pit of a cherry, and Evan slapped a hand over his lips as pain jolted through his skull.

 

     He let out a loud groan and spit the mouthful into his hand. A piece of his tooth stared back at him, lying in a mash of traitorous fruit. The table quieted. Now all eyes were on him. Clearing his throat, Evan meekly explained, “I’m sorry. I think I cracked a tooth.”

 

     The maenads began to snicker to one another,

“Did you see that?”

“He bit straight into an _ekumela_!”

“Like a dog!”

 

     Their giggling ceased when Jelani barked, “Silence!” Then he turned to a plump woman in mint-green garb. “Dr. Asha, see to our guest at once.”

The woman nodded, dabbed her lips with a napkin and stood up.

 

     She must have towered seven feet high, rich brown of skin with a head of long pink hair. Like the maenads she had a white marking on her forehead, but hers was a full circle rather than a crescent. Evan recognized that she was a minervae, the most revered of titan nymphs.

 

     He followed Dr. Asha out of the room and stammered, “I am very sorry, miss. I did not intend to interrupt your breakfast with my foolishness!”

The minervae just chuckled, “It matters not to me. We nymphs only eat for fun, you know.”

 

     She led him to a small examination room with a reclining chair of thatch in the center. Medical cabinets were labeled both in Universa and a language Evan didn’t even recognize.

 

     “Dental work is not really my specialty,” Dr. Asha told him, sweeping her hand to the chair. “So wait here while I fetch Dr. Kettlehouse. He’s been working with teeth for over two hundred years! You’ll be in good hands.”

 

     She disappeared while Evan reclined in the chair, fingers tapping anxiously at his sides. Doctors made him nervous. He was used to them as a child, with his chronic ailments and all the time spent in their care. It was after the werewolf’s infectious bite that everything changed.

 

     Maybe the average person wouldn’t look twice at all his body hair, his long teeth, his hulking size. Perhaps they mistook his persistent stench of dog for poor hygiene. But a good doctor would know better. Surely even a brief exam would give his affliction away?

 

     And then he would meet the same fate as Horace, he dreaded. Lynched in the middle of town by a furious mob. No longer considered a person; just a monstrous threat.

 

     After some time, Dr. Asha returned. A slender tawny dog with round ears and black patches walked in after her, its claws clacking on the wooden floor. Evan’s body tensed, fingers digging into the thatch. His plagued instinct urged him to lunge at the animal. He swallowed the urge and remained stiffly in his seat.

 

     The dog was wearing a bridle, a tiny gazebo attached to its back. A little man only 6 inches tall stepped out of the gazebo, climbed up the dog’s head and jumped onto Evan’s belly. He was a gnome with a graying beard bound in a short loop, wearing the same mint-green garb as Dr. Asha.

 

     “Hello, I am Dr. Kettle—” the gnome began, then the dog cut him off with a loud bark. Dr. Kettlehouse jumped with a start, fumbling with the spectacles that slipped off his face. The dog jumped side to side, barking at Evan. The gnome tried to calm it, but it whimpered and snarled relentlessly. Evan didn’t move a muscle. Sweat beaded on his brow as he side-eyed the creature.

 

     The dentist gave up and said, “Dr. Asha, would you take her out of here?”

In seconds the dog was dragged out of the room. Dr. Asha closed the door and its barking ceased. With a shake of his head, the gnome walked up Evan’s torso and mumbled, “I apologize for that, Mr. Atlas. Spotsworth is always the model of perfect behavior. I have no idea what’s gotten into her today!”

 

     Evan just forced a little chuckle, had nothing non-incriminating to say. The gnome wore a band around his head with a crystal on the front. He tapped the crystal and it lit up like a firefly. “I hear you cracked your tooth on an _ekumela_ ,” he said. “It happens to everyone once. Usually small children who don’t know any better.”

 

     Evan sighed. Dr. Kettlehouse continued, “Open wide and I’ll take a look.” Evan hesitated, then opened his mouth. Dr. Kettlehouse leaned his entire head inside, poking around with a wooden toothpick. To him, it was less of a toothpick and more of a staff.

 

     “My, what big teeth you have!” mused the gnome. Evan’s armor was filling with sweat. He wondered if Dr. Kettlehouse, standing on his neck, could feel his pulse pounding in his throat. The lycanthrope’s eyes flicked to Dr. Asha. She stood nearby with a calm smile, hands clasped behind her back.

 

     Finally the gnome withdrew and gestured to Dr. Asha. She picked him up, held him in her palm as he explained, “You have a bit of an underbite, but it shouldn’t hurt you. There is tarter buildup along the bottom molars which I can take care of, and the length of your canines suggests severe gum recession which—”

 

     The minervae cleared her throat and suggested, “Dr. Kettlehouse, the damaged tooth…?”

“Oh, yes.” He adjusted his spectacles. “I’m afraid it’s beyond repair. That tooth will have to come out as soon as possible, Mr. Atlas, or you could face a nasty infection. If you’d like to do it now, I can have you out of here in just over an hour.”

 

     Evan closed his eyes and thumped his head back in defeat. He hated the idea of a medical professional poking around at him this long, but the pain was agonizing. “Very well,” he agreed.

 

     Dr. Asha and Dr. Kettlehouse spent the next several minutes preparing. Dr. Asha pulled jars of mysterious ingredients from the cabinets and mashed them to dust with a mortar and pestle. Dr. Kettlehouse meandered about on the counter, arranging the proper tools for the job. Adorable, gnome-sized tools that Evan would have thought charming if he weren’t so terrified.

 

     The minervae finished her concoction and offered it to Evan in a bowl. It was a soupy mixture, shimmery and green. “First you must drink this. Every last drop,” she said.

 

     Evan tilted the bowl left and right. The mixture oozed like slime. “What is it?” he asked.

She replied, “Just a simple feel-good drug. It will numb your body and mind throughout the procedure. Completely safe, I promise you.”

 

     Evan looked down at the mixture, then back to Dr. Asha. He looked at Dr. Kettlehouse, arranging his dollhouse-tools on the counter. Instinct had been screaming at him to flee from the moment he set foot in this room.

_It’s a trick_ , said the Big Bad Wolf within.

 

     _They know what you are. They want to put you down. Drink that slop and you won’t wake up._

 

     Evan knew he should never trust the beast. It never had his best interests in mind. But he trusted doctors even less, so he set the bowl aside and shot up from the chair.

 

     “Actually,” he stammered, “I changed my mind. It isn’t a good time for this.”

Dr. Kettlehouse shot him a look of concern. “Are you sure? It’s a terrible break. I imagine it feels excruciating…”

He certainly wasn’t wrong about that. Still Evan refused his help, told him, “Thank you, but I have a doctor back home who can handle this. It’s only a few days from now.”

 

     The gnome kept insisting what a bad idea that was, but in the end Evan insisted harder. He returned to his quarters and made a beeline for his tool bag.

 

     In no way did he intend to leave this pain be. In their travels he had always been his own doctor, so he would deal with his wounds the way he always did: with a pair of pliers and a bottle of strong bourbon. He used these pliers to yank arrowheads, stingers, and nettles from his body all the time. A tooth shouldn’t be any different.

 

     It wasn’t fun. It wasn’t easy. But twenty minutes later, Evan was lying on the floor with a bloody rag in his mouth, an empty bottle by his side, and the remaining half of his molar sitting on the night table. Lycanthropy would heal his socket before the night was done.

 

     But for now, alcohol would have to pick up the slack, and Evan only realized after the fact that he’d sucked the whole bottle dry on an empty stomach. Now hunger was paining him worse than the tooth. It was the combination of hunger, lycanthropy, and bourbon that send Evan stumbling back to the dining room with a blood-drenched rag in his mouth.

 

     Breakfast was over and the slaves were clearing the table when he entered the room. He reeked of sweat, blood, and booze. He was still sticky from the palm wine, hair all a mess. It was no wonder the slaves disappeared when they saw him, hiding behind the doorway in the kitchen as he began gorging himself on leftovers.

 

     Roasted beetles, down the hatch. Fish eyes, by the fistful. Cow tongue, chewed and swallowed. Evan ate it all with his hands and licked his fingers clean as he scanned the room with bleary, drunken eyes. No one was there to witness his shame, so he thought. Then he stuffed the rag back in his mouth and scurried off to his quarters again.

 

     The elven slaves watched him leave with slacked jaws, rounded eyes turning to one another in disbelief.

“He put away half the table!” one whispered.

“Like a trash bin,” said another.

“Like a _beast_ ,” said the third, and together they cautiously crept out to finish their cleaning.

 

     As soon as the door closed behind him, Evan passed out on the bed.

 

     When he woke, the sky through the open window had turned from blue to orange. A blanket of shifting mist obscured the sunset, soft rain pattering down. Evan let out a groan as he forced himself to sit up. A figure startled him—but it was only Sabrani.

 

     She glanced back at him as she swept the floorboards. “Hello, Sir. May I get you anything?”

Evan raked his fingers through his sticky hair. “Just the time,” he croaked.

The elfenne said, “Fifteen minutes until dinner. I tried to wake you for lunch, but you slept right through.” She grinned. “Dr. Asha must have given you the good stuff.”

 

     “Fifteen minutes…” Evan mumbled, still half-dazed. He closed his eyes as his mind struggled to pull itself back together. Everything after he left the infirmary was a blur.

 

     Then he gasped, “F-fifteen minutes? Has the king requested my attendance?”

“Of course,” Sabrani replied. “But he would understand if you weren’t feeling up to it. After lunch, he was so concerned that he sent me to watch over you as you slept. I’ve been here since high sun.”

 

     Evan scrambled out of bed and hurried to the bathroom to wash. “Tell him I’ll be there shortly!” he called.

 

*

 

     Dinner at the palace was much like breakfast, with a long table full of Jelani’s favorite foods and chairs full of his favorite people. The atmosphere was decidedly calmer at this hour. The table was aglow with flickering candles while a maenad band played soft music on their strings and woodwinds.

 

     Evan found himself facing the same problem as earlier: silver utensils. What to do? He anxiously drummed his fingers on the table’s edge until he got an idea. Turning to Sabrani waiting just behind him, he whispered, “Is it too outlandish to request a wooden fork?”

 

     Sabrani tilted her head, a crease carved between her thin brows. “Forgive me, Sir—did you say ‘wooden fork’?”

“Yes. Uh, my teeth are sensitive at the moment...”

“I see. I will ask the kitchen,” she said, and then she was gone.

 

     In the meantime, Evan tried the roasted _setsiki_ brains after watching some guards eat them with their hands. Delectable, to his surprise.

 

     At the head of the table to his right, Jelani had been speaking with a guard. He sipped from his goblet and then turned his attention to Evan. Flashing a big white smile, he jabbed the mercenary in the shoulder and asked, “How’s that tooth, Atlas?”

“Much better, thank you,” Evan told him. It was true, if only for his curse.

 

     The king’s smile remained when he said, “Glad to hear it. Got word that you helped yourself to a nap today. But not before stumbling in here and helping yourself to the leftovers. Ha!” He laughed and shocked the air with a clap.

 

     Evan’s face flushed pink. He covered half of it with a napkin as he pretended to wipe his mouth. The blurry memories were coming into focus now. Jelani turned to Dr. Asha, sitting a few seats away to his right. “You must have spoiled him with the _really_ fun stuff, Asha!” he chortled.

 

     The mercenary froze, teeth gnashing together behind his lips. He’d been caught.

 

     But the minervae, for whatever reason, didn’t tell the king the truth. She didn’t lie either. Rather, she offered a simple and vague, “I want only the best for our guest,” before returning to her plate. Evan looked at her, perplexed. Her pink eyes flicked towards him. She smiled and winked.

 

     The air felt thin. Evan’s heart was hammering so hard, he feared it would clang against his armor. Did she know what he was? She had to know! Of course she did—she was a minervae, a medical professional, probably hundreds of years old with thousands of patients under her care. There was no way a lycanthrope would go unnoticed by her.

 

     So why hadn’t she outed him?

 

     Perhaps she didn’t know after all. Perhaps Evan’s paranoid beast was simply getting the better of him. His voice cracked when he said to Jelani, “Your Highness, I’m—”

“Uh-uh!” The king corrected him. “ _Who_?”

“Er, Jelani. Sorry. My behavior yesterday was deplorable. I offer my most profound apologies and my promise that it will never happen again.”

 

     Jelani chuckled over a mouthful of food. He swallowed it and said, “Your ‘deplorable’ is my ‘hilarious’, Atlas. It wasn’t your fault anyway. It was _my_ personnel that doped you up on feel-good juice, so if anyone is to blame, it is I. And for that, _I_ apologize to _you_.”

 

     That said, he patted the mercenary’s shoulder and then clapped his hands twice in the air. “More wine!” he called. A young elven slave approached him with a clay amphora and refilled his goblet.

“Anything else, Your Highness?” asked the slave.

Jelani shook his head and sipped from the goblet. “Not now.”

 

     The slave began to leave. Jelani quickly lowered the goblet and barked, “Hey! Who said you were dismissed?”

Scrambling back to Jelani’s side, the elf stammered, “S-sorry, so sorry, Your Highness. My mistake.”

 

     “Mistake indeed,” the king told him flatly. “Stay here so that the next time I call you, I won’t be kept waiting for you to drag your sluggish hide to me. I’m a busy man, I don’t have time to wait for the likes of you. _You_ wait on _me_. Do you understand?”

 

     “Yes, Your Highness, I see now,” the elf replied breathlessly, bowing his head low. An uneasy feeling was churning in Evan’s stomach. He pushed the disgust off his face, looked around at the rest of the table. Everyone carrying on as usual, not batting a single eye to the king’s tirade.

 

     Jelani shook his head and took another sip from his goblet. He leaned towards Evan and muttered, “This one’s new. Some learn quickly, others not so much. I can already tell he’s going to be a nuisance…”

 

     Evan swirled the palm wine in his own goblet and asked cautiously, “Where do these servants come from?”

“Most are born to us,” Jelani explained casually. “But once in a while we get fresh blood from the bondsman market. I don’t know. I don’t do that stuff personally. As if I have time to shop for these hobs…”

 

     He chuckled and stabbed into his food with his silver fork. Just then Sabrani returned with empty hands. “I’m sorry, Sir,” she told Evan, her narrow eyes full of regret. “I could not find a wooden fork. I asked the cooks, I asked the cleaners, I even rummaged through the servants’ quarters! I humbly beg your mercy for my incompetence.”

 

     Evan offered a gentle smile. “It’s okay, Sabrani. Thank you for trying.”

“Wait, wait,” Jelani broke in, jabbing his utensil towards the elfenne. “What is it you were looking for?”

Sabrani swallowed before replying, “A wooden fork, Your Highness. He says metal is too harsh against his ailing teeth.”

 

     The king furrowed his dark brows. “So he asked you for this thing—this one simple thing—and you’ve come back with nothing?”

“Yes, Your Highness.” Sabrani clasped her hands together, tilting her head low.

Jelani went on, “I ask you: Are you not a servant? Your one job is to serve, and if you can’t even do that, what does that make you?”

 

     “I do not know, Your Highness.”

“It makes you useless!” The king barked, throwing his goblet to the floor. Palm wine splashed across the ornate tiles. The sound made Sabrani and every other slave in the room jump. Jelani gestured to the mess and growled, “There, now you have some purpose! Clean that up and then report to Officer Moziya. Tell him I’ve ordered ten lashes.”

 

     He paused, then added, “Be thankful it isn’t more, for upsetting my dear guest and making a poor host of me!”

“Thank you, Your Highness. At once, Your Highness,” mumbled Sabrani, and then she was rushing to a cabinet for cleaning supplies.

“Oh, I’m not upset!” Evan said quickly. “She’s been very kind and attentive to me since I arrived. The lashings _really_ aren’t necessary.”

 

     Jelani wore a scowl as he watched Sabrani drop to her knees and begin scrubbing the floor. “Don’t let them tug at your heartstrings. The servants are manipulative little rats and they’ll cross you the second you allow it to happen.” His scowl deepened. “You can’t really understand unless you grew up alongside them. Every one of them will know their place under my rule.”

 

     Dinners were a long affair at the Fanaka palace. It was more than just a meal; it was a time for conversation, for the exchange of news, a time to unwind with music and maenad entertainers. These nymphs gracefully twirled and undulated around the table, sweeping their veils over their enchanted audience.

 

     They were clad in scant outfits made of gold coins which jingled with every movement. Some took their dances to the tabletop and began kicking all the food and drink onto the floor. Wine and leftovers splashed everywhere, and immediately the slaves rushed to clean it.

 

     Meanwhile the audience sang and clapped along with the music—except for Evan, who wasn’t at all familiar with the songs. One of the maenads took his hands and pulled him up to the tabletop with her. Evan shot a questioning look at Jelani before committing. The king laughed as he waved him along.

 

     Now the mercenary found himself awkwardly swaying with the flirtatious maenad, her arms clasped loosely around his neck. The personnel around him rose from their seats and joined together in a traditional synchronized dance. Their movements were fluid like water.

 

     Even miserable old Moswen joined the dance, at least to the best of her ability. She moved her creaky arms above her head in time with everyone else. Everyone except Evan. Evan loved to dance. He knew how to dance. But he did not know how to dance like _this_ , so slowly and gracefully.

 

     Soon Jelani was storming onto the table with them. With a swift sweep of his arm, he shoved the maenad and sent her tumbling to the floor with a shriek. “You skip like a rabbit,” he told Evan as he began dancing before him, “when you should sway like a snake. Evangelites skip, Matuzans sway!”

 

     Evan’s eyes followed his motions up and down. He copied them the best he could. But it wasn’t enough for Jelani, who planted his hands on the mercenary’s hips to guide their rhythm. “Arms up,” the king instructed. He then slid his hands down Evan’s arms until their fingers intertwined. “To the left. Now the right. Slower, slower! Knees bent, arms down, now up once more!”

 

     His instructions were like water swishing in Evan’s ears. He could hardly pay attention, face burning red hot and sweating buckets in his armor. He felt too heavy for his own legs, if his quivering knees were any indication. Then Jelani twirled him around and he nearly slipped off the table, but the king was quick to pull him close and smoothly resume their dance.

 

     Jelani sang along with everyone else, wearing a euphoric grin all the while. The notes were long and melodic, sung in the language of _Galsungi_. Evan knew this was Uekoro’s old tongue, before the Great Kingdoms rose and introduced _Universa_. He knew this only because Lukas told him, and only because of Lukas’ teachings did he understand this chorus being sung:

 

     _“Over the golden sun,_

_Over the silver moon,_

_Arrows pierce the cosmos,_

_To rain our sacred colors down,_

_Warrior king, warrior king of the rainbow village!”_

 

     Jelani held Evan close, grinning as he serenaded him. His eyes rounded when Evan began to sing along too. The king let out a booming laugh and twirled his guest once more.

 

*

 

     Just an hour ago they shared the dinner table as friends. Now king and mercenary shared the training grounds as rivals.

 

     “Same rules as yesterday,” explained Jelani. “Except this time I’ll come out on top!”

Evan smiled and stepped to his mark. “Twenty gold pieces says you won’t.”

Jelani told him, “Luckily for you, betting is illegal in Uekoro,” and then a maenad from the balcony started the match.

 

     The two fought ferociously from the start. Evan swept his sword to the left and Jelani bent backwards to dodge it, springing back up to slam his weapon against the mercenary’s ribs. He blocked two more hits, one with his gauntlet and another with his sword, then spun around and performed a swift roundhouse kick to Evan’s chest.

 

     Evan staggered back. Before he could catch his balance, Jelani kicked his peg leg out from under him. He toppled on his side. The king tossed his sword and was on top of him in an instant as the maenads started to count down. Each number was shouted with excitement.

 

     They only reached “three” before Evan rose to his feet. Jelani clung to his shoulders like a backpack, arms wrapped tightly around his neck. Evan stumbled, whirled this way and that, but he could not shake Jelani. Throwing his weight to the right, Jelani managed to pull him off balance once more and they crashed to the ground.

 

     The countdown restarted. Jelani pinned Evan’s arms behind his back and the mercenary struggled to roll over without them. He wriggled helplessly like a worm until the nymphs reached “two”, then he managed to break his right arm free. He used it to push himself to the side and roll over top of Jelani.

 

     In an instant the tables had turned, and Jelani’s face changed from a confident grin to a panicked strain. Evan laid over him, pressing his full weight down. Jelani couldn’t slip his hands between them to push him away. He could barely even breathe. They were face to face, nose to nose during the maenads’ decidedly slow countdown.

 

     “Threeee….Twooooo….” they droned, while one of them howled, “Get up, my king! Get up!”

Another cried, “Don’t let Atlas best you _again_!”

And another, “I can’t even watch! How humiliating!”

The last, “End round! Victory to Evan Atlas!”

 

     Jelani finally stopped struggling and admitted defeat, falling limp against the dirt. Evan shot him a smile as he stood up, then helped him back to his feet. The maenads booed from the balcony until Jelani pointed at them in a threatening manner, then their boos turned to cheers.

 

     Pink and white flower petals rained down into the yard. Jelani shook Evan’s hand and with the other, brushed the petals out of the mercenary’s hair. He shook his head and chuckled, “Gods damn you…I woke up early to practice those new moves, and for what?”

 

     “Almost had me for a moment there,” Evan told him. “But train as you will, for I will also be training, and I will always be a step ahead!” He playfully rammed his shoulder against the king, nearly knocking him off balance. Jelani returned the swords to the wall, brushing the dirt from his pants as he headed for the exit.

 

     At the command of a whistle, the maenads flooded down the stairs and joined his side. “You, pay the man his winnings,” he ordered one of them. The maenad pulled off her scanty brassiere of gold coins and tossed it to Evan. He fumbled as he caught it with a pink tinge in his cheeks.

 

     Jelani pointed to Evan with a mischievous grin, said to him before he left, “Watch yourself, Atlas. I’ll see you on your back before you leave, make no mistake!”

 

*

 

     That night, Evan dressed down into his pajamas and prepared for sleep. _Real_ sleep, as opposed to another booze-drenched stupor.

 

     He settled under the blanket and Lukas’ scent wafted up like pollen in a spring meadow. Like happy memories. Like painful torture. Evan sighed, turned towards the open window to escape it. Here the curtains were always billowing in the breeze. But somehow the scent was even stronger.

 

     The mercenary’s ear twitched at a faint creak. His eyes snapped open and before him, a slender figure was crouching in the window. It was wrapped head to toe in dark garb, only its eyes visible and gleaming in the starlight.

 

     Evan shot out of bed. In his fatigue he forgot all about his missing leg and collapsed to the floor.

“Calm down! It’s me,” the figure whispered. It silently crept off the windowsill and pulled the wrap from its face.

 

     “Lukas,” Evan said breathlessly, dragging himself back onto the bed. “How on Gaia did you get passed security?”

Lukas crossed his arms and leaned against the wardrobe. “Pff, please. I spent my whole childhood sneaking around this place. I know it inside and out.”

 

     “I thought you went home.”

“The others did. I stayed, because I know how my brother is and I know how you are. You’re both immature, stubborn idiots.” Lukas shrugged. “Only difference is, you have good intentions. Jelani doesn’t.”

 

     Evan narrowed his eyes. “What are you saying?”

“I’m saying you need to pack your shit and come home!” growled Lukas. “Get out of here before Jelani manipulates you into something you can’t get out of!”

 

     Evan sighed, “Lukas, my dear friend…You are _plagued_ with worry over nothing! Your brother has shown me nothing but warmth and kindness since I arrived. He’s been most understanding despite my humiliating blunders here, and I’ll have you know that I consider him a friend. I’ve been enjoying his company immensely, and he, mine!”

 

     A brief silence fell between them. Lukas’ arms seemed to cross tighter over his chest, expression hardening ever so slightly. Then he replied in a harsh whisper, “You’ve known him for all of—what? Two days? And how long have you known me?”

“Listen, I—”

“ _How long_ , Evan?”

 

     With another sigh, Evan quickly counted in his head and replied, “Ten, fifteen years or so?”

“That’s right,” said Lukas, “and you’re telling me after all those years, and after the _thing_ we shared for the first couple of those years…You trust that arrogant fool more than you trust me?”

 

     Evan’s gaze drifted to the floor, jaw set stubbornly in place. He said nothing, so Lukas continued, “He’s handsome and he’s charming, I’ll give him that. Like a shiny spinner to a fish. And you know what? You’re just another shallow-minded fish, Evan. Every time a sparkly treasure crosses your path, you get hooked and I have to come pull you out of the boat!”

 

     He went on slowly, “Jelani is a _user_. He will treat you like royalty until he gets what he wants, but the moment things don’t go his way he’ll drop you like the slippery damn fish you are. I’ve seen it before, and I’m warning you now.”

 

     Another heavy silence sat between them. The curtains rippled softly in the breeze. Finally Evan lifted his gaze from the floor and said, “Clearly you have some unresolved issues with the man. Since you spent all this effort sneaking into his home, why don’t you spend a little more marching to his quarters and making amends with him?”

 

     Lukas dropped his arms from their crossed position, pacing in a slow semi-circle. He scrubbed his fingers against his eyes. “You’re unbelievable!” he groaned. “I give up. See you back home, assuming you even make it back.” He reached into the pouch on his belt and tossed some kind of bundle on the floor. It landed beside Evan’s foot.

 

     “Figured you might need that,” spat Lukas, crawling back through the window. “Don’t choke, you _mongrel_.”

 

     And then he was gone.

 

     Evan sat in silence for several minutes. There were too many thoughts in his head and too many emotions in his heart, so many that he couldn’t identify them in the chaos. If only for a distraction, he swiped the bundle off the floor and turned it over in his hands.

 

     It was wrapped in burlap, tied off with a string. Evan bit through the string and the fabric fell open, revealing three utensils: a wooden knife, a wooden spoon, and a wooden fork.

 


	3. A PRICELESS PROPOSAL

##  **[CHAPTER 3: A PRICELESS PROPOSAL]**

 

     The next morning came and went fast. Evan used his gift from Lukas, despite his frustration with him. He hadn’t been eating enough since he arrived and his lycanthropy was throwing a fit about it. Finally his hunger pangs, his tremors, his sour mood and splitting headache subsided as he shoveled down plate after plate of Uekoran cuisine.

 

     Jelani was always gone during the day, only returning briefly for lunch and then again for dinner and evening training. Evan felt awkward around the rest of the palace denizens. He had this sneaking suspicion that they didn’t like him, thought him strange, or perhaps they were just put off by his dog-smell.

 

     So the mercenary decided to spend the afternoon in the courtyard. It was a vast garden behind the palace, fenced in by ivy-choked walls. He hadn’t set foot in this garden yet, had only seen it from his bedroom window. Just as he reached forth to open the door, a voice spoke to him from behind.

 

     “I wouldn’t go out there if I were you,” it said. Evan turned and found himself facing a woman’s plump chest. Startled, he stepped back and craned his neck to see Dr. Asha smiling down at him.

“Er, why is that?” he asked.

 

     The minervae said, “Guard hounds run loose in the courtyard day and night. A man like yourself might get nervous.”

Evan froze, eyes rounding like coins. Slowly his fingers slipped away from the door. He looked this way and that, saw the corridor was clear before he whispered, “And why is _that_?”

 

     Her smile remained, her response decidedly vague. “Because nature is perceptive in ways that peoples are not.”

“Dr. Asha,” Evan murmured, tone thick with desperation, “ _please_. Whatever you know about me, you must keep it to yourself. I beg of you!”

 

     Dr. Asha chuckled, affectionately patting his head as if he were a small child. To an ancient being like her, he supposed he was. “Don’t fret, Mr. Atlas. I take patient confidentiality very seriously. You have a blessed day,” she told him, and then she continued on her way down the corridor.

 

     Evan’s nerves were shot. He left the palace through the front doors, quickly making his way down the path to the village proper. He hadn’t explored much of the culture here beyond the palace. Evan always had a thirst for knowledge, especially regarding worldly subjects.

 

     He wandered into a massive market bustling under the shade of a tent. The air was even muggier here than outside, but the constant exchange of coin kept vendors and customers coming back. The chatter all around was nearly deafening. Evan heard _Universa_ , _Galsungi_ , and a mix of other languages he couldn’t identify.

 

     Vendors displayed a variety of things in their stalls. Some of which Evan was certain couldn’t be legal. Blown glass baubles, braided jewelry, shrunken heads, pixie wings—things beautiful and horrifying casually being sold side by side. He shouldn’t leave such a unique place empty-handed, he thought.

 

     What better way to greet his crew than with gifts? Maybe then they wouldn’t be so bitter with him for his absence. A glinting necklace caught his eye, dangling from a vendor’s stall. He stopped to examine it. Alaine would adore such a thing, he imagined. Tiny bone beads made up the chain, the round brass pendant clasping a turquoise stone in the center.

 

     The vendor was a middle-aged human, her petite body draped in thin robes. “Do you like that one?” she asked, and before he could answer she snatched it off the hook and looped it over his head. “Try it on! It’s beautiful, isn’t it? It brings out the green in your eyes! Or is it for someone else? A _special_ someone?”

 

     Evan chuckled, “Just for a friend. I know she wouldn’t leave without this if she saw it. How much are you asking?”

The woman’s smile stretched from ear to ear. “Nothing! Free!” she said.

Evan cocked his head. “Really? Uh, are you sure?”

“Yes, yes! For such a handsome man, I couldn’t ask a coin!”

 

     A sheepish grin spread across Evan’s lips. He looked down at the sparkling pendant dangling from his neck, then thanked the vendor and began to leave. He barely made it ten paces before a woman shrieked behind him. He whirled around, saw the vendor waving her arms in a panic.

 

     “Guards! Guards! That man stole from me!” she wailed, pointing an accusing finger at Evan. He looked this way and that, saw everyone looking back at him with disapproving murmurs. An instant later, a Uekoran officer seized him by the arm while another spoke to the woman.

 

     Utterly confused, Evan said, “What’s going on? I stole nothing from her!”

“Silence,” the guard told him sharply.

The second guard walked up and wrenched the necklace off of him. She then told the first, “The item matches the accuser’s description. Take him in.”

 

     After returning the jewelry to the woman, the guards took each of Evan’s arms and led him out of the market. When he tried to explain himself, they silenced him. When he tried a second time, he earned a knee to the gut. The mercenary shut his mouth then, stewing in confusion and anger as they dragged him all the way to the village jailhouse.

 

     The cell was dim, cramped, and miserably hot. The tiny barred window near the ceiling barely provided enough ventilation to breathe. Evan sat on the floor, head hanging between his knees for the last four hours. He shared the cell with two other people, a young goblin and an old satyr.

 

     Supposedly the goblin was a “thief” like himself. The satyr was accused of stalking a woman. Evan had no trouble believing it, for this woman was all he talked about since he arrived.

 

     Evan simply tried to ignore their rambling as he waited for answers. His stomach was sinking further by the hour as he realized he may never get one. What crime he’d committed by walking off with a free trinket, he couldn’t imagine.

 

     Several pairs of shoes shuffled against the stone floor. They stopped before the cell and a guard called, “Evan Foster Atlas? You have a visitor.”

The mercenary lifted his head, blinking the blur of fatigue from his eyes. A familiar face came into focus, frowning at him from the other side of the bars.

 

     “Jelani!” Evan exclaimed, scrambling to his feet.

Jelani turned to the guard on his right and barked, “What is he doing in here?”

“Uh,” the guard began meekly, “h-he stole an item from the market, Your Highness. An officer witnessed it himself.”

Turning back to Evan, Jelani’s voice softened when he said, “Explain yourself, Atlas.”

 

     “I don’t understand what happened myself!” Evan told him. “I was looking to purchase a necklace. I asked the price, and the shopkeeper told me it was free. So I took off with it, and before I know it she’s calling me a ‘thief’! What kind of sense does that make?”

 

     For a tense moment, Jelani simply stared at him. Then, to Evan’s surprise, the irritation on his face gave way to a smile. The king’s booming laughter echoed off the stone walls while the guards nervously laughed along. Evan could only clutch the iron bars of his cell in helpless confusion.

 

     The laughter died down and Jelani gave one of the guards a shove. “Let him out right now! And I want his record wiped clean, do you understand me?” he said.

The guard fumbled with the keys on his belt, replied, “At once, Your Highness,” and then opened the cell. Jelani took Evan’s hand and pulled him back to the outside world. They were flanked by six guards, two of those riding okapi.

 

     “Come, my friend,” said Jelani, leading him back to the palace. “I’m sorry that happened to you. Incompetent idiots, don’t know a foreigner when they see one…I’ll have them all demoted for this nonsense…”

Evan still felt lost. “Jelani, I don’t understand. What is it I’ve done wrong?”

 

     The king squeezed his shoulder. “Nothing, except be ignorant to the culture. You see, when a Uekoran tells you something is ‘free’, what they really mean is ‘make an offer’. It’s a silly little formality, but that’s how it’s always been. Just remember, nothing is free in Uekoro.”

 

*

 

     That evening’s dinner was another joyous demonstration of song and dance. This time, Jelani asked Evan to teach him how to dance like an Evangelite. So Evan clapped as he skipped upon the table, rattling dishes in rhythm with the maenad’s lively music.

 

     He hooked his arm around Jelani’s. They skipped in a circle together twice before Evan twirled him. He pushed the king away and then pulled him close, hopping and kicking energetically all the while. Everyone in the room was laughing and smiling. But Evan’s smile shined the brightest, and no one laughed harder than Jelani.

 

     The slaves were left to clean up the mess as king and mercenary left for the training grounds. Along the way Jelani said, “I bet you don’t have dinners like that back home, do you?”

 

     The dining hall of his compound flashed in Evan’s mind. It was dark and a bit dusty, maybe a rat or a roach here and there…But the memory of the roaring fireplace and the long rickety table of familiar cuisine, all his friends surrounding him, drinking, dancing, laughing…

 

     “Actually,” he said, “it’s _very much_ like the dinners back home. The music sounds different and the food is strange to me. But sharing a feast and dancing with the people I care about, that’s all the same.” He paused, turned to Jelani with a smile. “You’ve made me feel very at home here, Jelani.”

 

     The king’s brows bounced in a flash of surprise. Then he smiled back and replied, “My home is your home, friend.”

 

     They reached their marks on the training yard, their maenad audience above cheering and swaying. The round began and Evan was anticipating some new tricks, so he pulled out some new tricks of his own. He let Jelani have the first strike and just as soon as he blocked it, he rammed his full weight forward.

 

     Jelani reeled back seven or eight paces, nearly fell backwards. Evan charged forth and he managed to roll out of the way, springing back to his feet to land two good hits on the mercenary’s back. The second hit knocked the wind out of Evan and he stumbled forward, dropping to his knee.

 

     He couldn’t get up before Jelani sped by and tackled him all the way down. They rolled three times, each struggling for dominance. Jelani ended up on top and jammed his sword into the ground, holding it tightly so he could not be rolled to the left.

“Five…Four…” the maenads began.

 

     The countdown reset when Evan instead rolled him to the right, but Jelani had learned his lesson last time. He wriggled out of Evan’s grip and rose to his feet again, keeping him at a sword’s distance. Evan rose too and they exchanged several more rapid, artful blows.

 

     At some point Jelani managed to land a hit against Evan’s hand. He dropped his weapon and instantly Jelani rushed him. Quickly Evan crouched and wrapped his arms around the king’s legs, lifted him over his shoulder. Then he spun him around twice like a shot put throw and sent him sailing across the yard.

 

     Jelani hit the ground with a loud grunt. He lost his grip on his weapon and it bounced away. He tried to rise but the spinning made him dizzy, threw him off balance. The maenads began to count. Then Evan dropped down on him like an anvil and the match was over.

 

     “End round! Victory to Evan Atlas!” called a maenad, and the nymphs’ petals rained down. Evan took Jelani’s hand and pulled him back to his feet, but the king was still dizzy. He wobbled and Evan was quick to catch his fall, then suggested they sit for a moment until he felt better.

 

     So the two sat on the wooden bench under the balcony, brushing the dust from their pants and the petals from their shoulders. “You were right,” panted Jelani. “Always a step ahead of me…”

“I try,” Evan grinned.

 

     Once he caught his breath, Jelani said, “You know what I like about you, Atlas? You don’t cow to me. You never lose your nerve and throw a match just because of my status. From the moment we met, you fought me like a man and treated me like a friend.”

 

     He clamped his hand on Evan’s thigh. “That takes some heavy stones. I respect that,” he finished.

Evan felt the blush creeping up his face, pretended to scratch at his stubble to hide it. “Thank you.”

 

     “Thank _you_ ,” Jelani said, giving his thigh a squeeze. His smile straightened. “I mean it. I don’t think anyone realizes how lonely the throne can be. From the moment you’re born, nobody wants to treat you like a person. You’re just a…”

 

     He shook his head, staring off at the opposite wall. “…a _threat_. People are afraid of your power, so they keep their distance all while groveling at your feet. It’s a fake and miserable kind of life. And after so long wishing they would treat you like a person, you start forgetting how to act like one…”

 

     The king trailed off, biting his tongue. Then he took a deep breath and turned to Evan with a strained smile. “Ha. I’m sorry. I think I’ve had a bit too much wine tonight.”

Evan opened his mouth to speak. The words didn’t come, for he knew not how to articulate a feeling so powerful.

 

     Instead, he simply placed his hand over Jelani’s and gave it a squeeze. They sat together that way for several minutes. Then the nymphs began filing down the stairs into the training yard, lining up before them.

 

     “My king,” one said, “shall we meet you in your bedchamber?”

Jelani closed his eyes and let out a long, deep breath. He seemed to be in thought. Then he opened his eyes, gave Evan’s hand a final squeeze before he stood up.

 

     “Not tonight,” he answered. The maenads quietly chattered amongst themselves as they crept back up the stairs, disappearing through a doorway on the second floor.

Evan’s brow sagged with concern. “Are you alright, Jelani?” he asked.

 

     Jelani smiled, though his eyes weren’t in it. “I will be,” the king replied. “Just sore after being tossed like a ragdoll, is all.” He put the weapons back on the wall, then headed for the exit. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Atlas.”

 

*

 

     It wasn’t like Evan to sleep his morning away. He spent his whole youth waking with the roosters at sunrise. Now in a new time zone a continent away from home, that had all gone out the window.

 

     Once again it took Sabrani to wake him. “The king requests your attendance at breakfast,” she told him. “He says it’s urgent.”

“Urgent? How so?”

“He would not tell me, Sir.”

Concerned, Evan hurried to wash, assemble his polished armor, and make his way to the dining room.

 

     The slaves were still setting the table when he arrived. Not everyone was present yet. But Jelani was, sitting at his usual spot at the head of the table. He waved Evan over and the mercenary took a seat beside him.

“Glad to see you,” said Jelani. “I was thinking something over last night, and I wanted to run it by you as soon as possible.”

 

     “What is it?” Evan asked.

The king folded his hands and told him, “A few weeks ago, I lost the captain of my military. Long story short, the rat bastard committed treason. Anyway, he’s been disposed of and I’ve appointed someone to take his place temporarily. But I haven’t found a permanent captain with all the qualities I’m looking for...”

 

     His eyes flashed up to Evan. “At least until now. You fit like a glove, Atlas. I want you to lead the Uekoran military.”

“Me?” Evan almost laughed, slapping a hand against his steel chestplate. “Oh, Jelani, I couldn’t—”

 

     “Before you say ‘no’, hear this,” Jelani blurted, raising his palms. “You will rarely see the battleground yourself. You’ll just be expected to train our troops and communicate with Matuzu Kingdom’s other militaries. Once in a while you’ll have to strategize, but I know you’re intelligent and competent enough to do so.”

 

     He swept his hand towards the window and continued, “You saw how incompetent those guards were yesterday. Uekoro’s guards and soldiers are one and the same, they’re all trained at the same barracks. This place is in desperate need of someone like you to whip these grunts into shape. Their behavior is reflecting poorly on me. I’m sick of it.”

 

     Evan’s jaw fell loose, shaking his head slightly as he chose his next words. Finally he decided, “Jelani, I have my own mercenary business to run. This vacation is already pushing it; I couldn’t possibly do both.”

 

     “Ah, your business. That’s right…” Jelani muttered, scratching at his smooth chin. Then he perked up with an idea, said, “What if I bought your business from you? I could find someone else to run it.”

“You couldn’t.”

“But I could! Just name your price. Go on.”

 

     “You couldn’t, because the Freelance Good Guys are priceless to me,” Evan told him. “It’s a lot more than a business. It’s been my whole life since I was sixteen, seventeen years old? Anyway, I’m pushing close to 40 now. And the mercs who work for me, they are the friends I’ve made over all that time. They are very dear to me and so is my compound. I’m sorry, but I wouldn’t trade this life for anything.”

 

     Jelani’s lips pressed together tightly. His expression flattened as his eyes drifted down at his hands. For a long moment he was silent in thought, occasionally drumming his fingers against the table.

“Understandable,” he said finally. He looked as if he had more to say, but he kept his mouth closed until a slave set a plate of food before him.

 

     All the personnel arrived and breakfast went on as usual. Evan couldn’t help but feel a twinge of guilt as he noticed Jelani’s demeanor change. He seemed sullen as he cleared his plate, possibly a bit angry. Normally he was boasting and laughing with everyone around him, but now he’d gone quiet.

 

     At some point Evan couldn’t take it anymore. He cleared his throat and said, “Jelani? I haven’t upset you, have I?”

And in that instant the king’s back straightened. His eyes lit up and he flashed his usual crooked grin as he replied, “No, no, of course not! Do I seem upset? Ah, I just have a lot on my mind. This war with Etios Nation, you know...It’s got all of Matuzu Kingdom shaken. There’s a lot more on my plate these days than _ekumela_ pie, you understand.”

 

     Evan nodded, the knot in his stomach finally untangling. He wanted to believe that, so he did.

 

*

 

     Evan’s last day out didn’t go so well, so today he remained in the palace. Not that it was so confining; it was nearly a town in itself. He’d gotten lost more than once, but its square shape meant he would eventually loop around to where he started. In his wanderings he found a towering bookshelf full of dusty tomes, some dating back centuries.

 

     This was the kind of behavior his crew would tease him for: Taking interest in the dullest possible things around him. But Evan delighted in all things old and forgotten. He was nose-deep in a heavy book when someone stopped before him.

 

     Once again it was Dr. Asha, and her presence filled him with equal parts relief and dread. “Good afternoon, Mr. Atlas,” she greeted. “How are you feeling today?”

 

     Evan hesitated, straightening his back as he slowly closed the book. “F-fine, thank you,” he answered.

“I’m glad to hear it. The health of everyone in the palace is my responsibility. So if you ever feel unwell, whether in the body or the soul, do let me know.”

 

     Evan replied a bit too quickly, “I surely will.” She took her time showing him a friendly smile, then slowly began meandering down the hall. The mercenary was torn in so many directions. Fear and curiosity played tug-of-war in his belly until fear fell on its face.

 

     “Dr. Asha, wait,” he said. She promptly returned, taking a seat on the bench beside him. He took a deep breath and continued quietly, “I must ask…Why did you cover for me the other day? I never drank your, uh, ‘feel-good drugs’.”

 

     She answered with a knowing grin. “Yes. You decided to medicate _yourself_ , and you found out the hard way why that may not have been the best idea.”

 

     The mercenary sheepishly scrubbed at his temple. She continued, “But I’m in no place to judge such behavior, for I was once like my little sisters. A foolish maenad who cared only for two things: carnal desire and my ever-flowing amphora.”

 

     Her pink lips straightened. “I was among the worst of them. Never could walk a straight line. So when I saw your plight, I suppose I simply pitied you.”

 

     “Well, I’m thankful you did,” Evan told her, eyebrows arched high. Then he added, “So, you say were a maenad? I can hardly believe that! You seem so intellectual, so mild. I met some maenads here at the palace, and uh…They were…”

 

     Dr. Asha’s laughter chimed, high and pleasant like a bell. She said, “Shallow of mind? Yes. So was I, until I grew weary of my own behavior. I took my pilgrimage to the divine of love, hoping she could help me broaden my horizons.”

 

     She stood up and began searching through the bookshelf beside them. “I traded my beloved amphora to her for…a…Ah, here it is.” She pulled a thick tome from the shelf. Somehow it was not dusty like the others, and when she handed it to Evan, he was shocked by its weight. It was light as a feather.

 

     “My Tome of Infinity,” she explained. “It records all of my knowledge. All I have learned in my time as a minervae can be found in the endless pages of this book.”

 

     Evan flipped to a random page. At a glance, he saw some kind of recipe. Below it, something about vampires being allergic to garlic. “Is there anything about me in here?” he asked.

“Most certainly there is.” She raised her hand and a golden aura lit up around her fingers.

 

     Evan jumped as the pages began turning on their own. They flipped backwards, then forwards again, settling on a seemingly random page in the center. He noticed his name and queried, “May I?”

“Go ahead.”

 

     The excerpt read,

“ _There is a new face at the palace. His name is Evan Atlas. He appears to be a human male between 30 and 40 years of age and is symptomatic of lycanthropy. He is a mercenary. He is right-handed. He wears a prosthetic in place of his right leg, just below the knee. I sense that he is good-natured and well-intentioned. I sense insecurity and a troubling desperation within him. His stubborn heart is burdened by guilt. It also longs for someone close to him. He is in pain. He—_ ”

 

     Evan stopped reading there, quickly closing the book. His face had drained of color. Dr. Asha gently took the tome from his hands and said, “It can be sobering at times.”

The mercenary slowly turned his head to her. “H-how did you know all that?" he croaked.

 

     The minervae placed the tome back on the shelf and told him, “Nymphs are a part of nature. And as I said before, nature is perceptive in ways that peoples are not.”

 

*

 

     The day seemed to pass by all too quickly, though Evan spent most of it in his guest room having an existential crisis. Jelani never showed up for lunch, so Evan didn’t either. He simply asked Sabrani to bring him a few plates and ate alone while he read a Uekoran newspaper.

 

     Jelani wasn’t kidding about the war, it seemed. More than half of the paper was dedicated to the Matuzu-Etios border conflict. Evan rarely kept up with current events unless it was affecting his business, preferring to immerse himself in things that happened ages ago.

 

     Had nobody told him, he would have never known about the war. How other territories were fairing was a mystery, but Uekoro seemed a world away from the fighting.

 

     Evan spent some time considering Jelani’s offer. Surely being a military captain would pay well, arm him with power and influence, and put him in contact with people who had even more power and influence. He could make a _real_ difference in the world, he thought. Maybe even put this war to rest.

 

     Evan was torn from his thoughts as Sabrani peeked her head in the door. She said, “Sir, the king wishes to speak with you. He’s waiting by the front entryway.”

The mercenary cocked an eyebrow, threw a glance out the window. Judging by the sun’s position, it was nowhere near dinner time.

 

     He hurried downstairs regardless and sure enough, Jelani was standing by the doors. All he said was, “Walk with me, Atlas,” and then they left the palace. Silently Jelani led him around the side of the building, down a narrow trail that passed a scenic waterfall.

 

     The trail was going upwards now, curving up a steep hill into the jungle. Colorful little birds flitted about and their delicate songs rang over the waterfall’s whisper. Finally Evan broke the silence, asked, “We’re a bit far out. Shouldn’t guards be escorting us?”

 

     “No need. Not where we’re going,” said Jelani, and he continued further up the path. Evan was getting more anxious by the second. Once the palace was out of sight, the king began, “That pool back there, with the waterfall? My brother and I used to swim in it when we were kids. It made my mother furious.”

 

     Evan twitched at the mention of his brother. He closed his lips tight and let Jelani continue, “But now it’s mine. The pool, the waterfall, the palace, the entire village, it all belongs to me.” He paused as they stepped over a fallen tree lying over the path. Evan saw chattering _setsiki_ jumping around the canopy above.

 

     Jelani went on, “When I was younger, I always dreamed of being the king. I thought being the boss of everything would solve all my troubles. But it didn’t. If anything, things are harder than ever now. I never thought I’d actually be here, you know. My brother was supposed to take the crown—not me. But here I am. It is what it is, and to be honest with you, Atlas…”

 

     He sighed and turned to face the mercenary. His brows were sagged above weary eyes as he finished, “I absolutely _hate_ my life.”

The statement made Evan stop in his tracks. Jelani kept on walking, up and up the hill. Rushing to catch up again, Evan said, “That’s a terrible way to feel, my friend. Is there truly nothing that could make things better?”

 

     Jelani’s lips curved into that crooked smile as they approached the top of the hill. He pushed a curtain of broad leaves aside and revealed a clearing. Several ancient trees with rainbow-striped bark sprouted here, their golden leaves crawling with playful _setsiki_.

 

     “This place always took the edge off,” Jelani told him. They stepped into the clearing, Evan minding every footfall. Something about this place just _felt_ sacred, as if magical energy was buzzing in its soil. He could hear the rush of the waterfall nearby, saw its mist rising from a ledge.

 

     The mist revealed a shimmering rainbow. It arched across the falls, over the clear evening sky. The mercenary’s jaw fell slack. “My god,” he muttered. “This is a treasure indeed!”

 

     The king smiled, full and genuine. “It’s the greatest treasure I have,” he said. “This is Toucan Mountain. It was where I used to go when things were too much for me at home. I still come here for the same reason.” He stepped closer to Evan, gazing over the falls by his side. “Used to play here with my brother and this...This little friend we had.” He chuckled, just a gust through his nostrils. “We used to fight like dogs over that girl.”

 

     Evan hesitated. After a few false starts, he forced himself to feign ignorance and ask, “You say you had a brother. Is he, er…?”

Jelani’s smile straightened. His eyes stared ahead at the falls when he replied, “Yeah. Twin brother, older by just a few minutes. That girl I mentioned, well…Long story short, he went chasing after her and got himself killed. Died out in the godforsaken Serkel Desert, I’m sure, because I haven’t heard from him since. That was all a very long time ago.”

 

     Jelani removed his beaded crown, raked a hand over his bald head. He took a deep breath and added, “Anyway, I don’t bring just anyone to this place. Just the people that make me happy, and believe me when I say that’s a short list.” Tossing his crown aside, the king faced the mercenary and took him by the hands.

 

     His grin returned. “You make me happy, Evan. From the moment you dared to knock me on my ass in that tournament, I knew you were something special. I’m really going to miss you when you board that train tomorrow.”

 

     Evan’s heart pounded like a drum. His knees quivered below him, threatening to collapse. He stuttered, swallowing the anxiety in his throat, “Y-you make me happy too. Very much so.”

“Oh?” Jelani’s smile widened, flashing teeth. His hands strayed up Evan’s arms and then he wrapped his own around the mercenary’s shoulders.

 

     Their torsos pressed together, beaded silk to hard steel. Their faces grew closer by the moment. Evan’s pulse was deafening in his own ears, the sky was too low, the air too thin…

 

     Then he felt Jelani’s lips against his, and all that noise turned to beautiful music. Evan’s humanity urged him to pull Jelani closer and let this progress. Meanwhile his lycanthropy urged him to push Jelani away and flee like a coward.

 

     The battle was short. As usual, lycanthropy won.

 

     Evan suddenly pulled back. He was panting, eyes rounded like coins. Concern crossed the king’s face as he queried, “Evan…?”

But before he could say more, the mercenary disentangled himself and mumbled something unintelligible. Something about “sorry” and “have to go” and “feeling unwell”.

 

     Then he was storming out of the clearing, disappearing through the brush and back down the hill.

 

*

 

     When Evan returned to the palace, he made a beeline for his bedchamber and didn’t come out for the rest of the night. He refused to let anyone see him like this. He was caught in such a bone-rattling, sweat-pouring, stomach-twisting panic that he could hardly breathe.

 

     But it was more than just fear that plagued him. It was sadness, it was fury, it was grief and self-loathing. It was an ancient pain in his heart and soul flaring up to remind him just what he was: a hazard, disaster, a bloodthirsty _beast_.

 

     He wanted Jelani so badly. But there was no telling what would happen if Jelani knew what he really was. And if there was even a chance that it would make him hate Evan forever, perhaps even call for his death, then it wasn’t worth it for him to know. This love, as Evan learned the hard way many times in the past, just could not be.

 

     Lukas would tease him for being so dramatic, Evan thought as he wept into the sheets that smelled all too much like him. He never missed Lukas more in his life than he did at this moment. Because Lukas was the first to stick by his side, even knowing what kind of beast lived inside him and what horrifying things that beast had done.

 

     It was Lukas who spit in the face of fear and told him that they would be best friends no matter what. At one time they were even more than friends. That time ended long ago, yet still they remained together, shed blood for one another, and even shed eachother’s blood when things got rocky between them. They survived those rocky times too.

 

     This was a rocky time indeed.

 

     All the sobbing took its toll. Eventually Evan moped himself into fitful dreams. When he woke, morning sun was spilling through his window.

 

     This was the day he was scheduled to leave. Jelani had already paid for his ticket, the train set to depart at high sun. Evan still had time to get ready. Just as he was slipping on his peg leg, Sabrani peeked in and told him, “Good morning, Sir. Um, I bring an urgent message from King Fanaka.”

 

     Evan’s stomach twisted. “Yes?” he murmured.

The elfenne went on, “He says the trains are out of service. Etios forces are interfering with the rail lines, so they are being delayed as a precaution. He also says he is more than willing to accommodate you for another night.”

 

*

 

     Facing Jelani right now took nerve that Evan simply didn’t have. So he skipped breakfast at the palace and sneaked out to the dingy inn his crew had stayed in days ago. He recalled its pub meals being decent enough.

 

     He stepped into the bar and looked around for a seat. The place wasn’t exactly bustling before noon. There were only a handful of souls here, but one of them looked familiar. Ironically, it was the head-to-toe disguise that made him so recognizable.

 

     None other than Lukas was hunched over the bar counter with a stiff drink in his hand. He pulled his face wrap below his lips every time he took a sip. But what was he still doing here? Evan swore he said he was going home.

 

     _The trains_ , he recalled, and almost slapped himself for being so foolish. Nobody was going anywhere with enemy forces on the tracks. He slipped into the empty stool beside his archer and said, “I’ve never been happier to see you, old friend.”

 

     Lukas jumped, tipping his drink. It sloshed onto the countertop. He regarded Evan with a wide-eyed stare, then his brows lowered. “Let me guess. The Big Man roped you into something and now you need me to get you out,” he said lowly.

 

     “No, nothing like that,” Evan told him. The bartender came by and he ordered a generous amount of food, then continued, “I’ve had a wonderful time at the palace. There are people here who bend over backwards to help me feel at home. And as for Jel—er, _Your Brother_ , I think the world of him. The stories you’ve told me, they don’t sound like him at all. Whatever impression he made on you before, I implore you to give him another chance.”

 

     “Would you give it a damn rest? I said ‘no’!” Lukas said sharply. He knocked back the last of his drink and banged the glass on the counter.

Evan raised his palms. “Okay, alright. I’m sorry. I won’t bring it up again.”

 

     They sat together in silence for a moment. Then Evan took a deep breath and asked, “Do you, uh…Do you happen to know how he feels about lycanthropes?”

 

     Lukas shot him an odd look. “Why? Are you being held hostage up there or something?”

“No, no! I’m just curious is all...” Evan paused. “You know, it’s too bad you’re stuck in this filthy old inn. I’m sure if you just talked to him, he’d put you up in the palace until the trains were back in order.”

 

     “Damn you, you said you’d drop it!” Lukas seethed, socking the other man hard in the shoulder. Then he quirked a brow and asked, “Wait, what about the trains?”

“They’re out of service.”

“What? No they aren’t.”

“Of course they are. I heard enemy forces had them all delayed.”

 

     “Evan, I was _just_ at the station! I had to put a letter in the post across the street. Wrote the crew so they don’t think we died out here,” Lukas told him. “Damn trains kept me up all night, as if insomnia didn’t kick me around enough. What bonehead told you they were out of service?”

 

     Evan couldn’t answer that. Rather, he wasn’t willing to. His skin felt hot and prickly, and before he knew it he was heading out the door. “I have to go,” he muttered, and then he was gone.

 

     Lukas called after him, but the door already shut. He wasn’t coming back. The archer shook his head and asked the bartender for another drink. “One second, honeybee,” she said, carrying three hot plates of food to the counter. She laid them all at Evan’s spot and asked, “Where’d the big guy go?”

 

     “He left,” Lukas told her.

A red tinge crept up her cheeks and she bellowed, “Well, he’d better get his behind back here and pay for all this! Guards!”

Lukas waved his hands and hissed, “Wait, wait, don’t do that! Ugh, let me get my wallet…”

 

*

 

     Sabrani shielded her face when Evan came storming up to her in the palace hall. She seemed to think he was going to hit her. But all he did was ask Jelani’s whereabouts, and she reported, “The king’s location is classified. He hasn’t said when he’ll return.”

 

     Evan trudged back towards his chamber. So that was that.

 

     Or maybe not!

 

     He wandered the halls until he found his way back to the antique bookshelf. Dr. Asha’s Tome of Infinity was still there. He took a seat on the bench and began leafing through the pages. Dr. Asha might know where Jelani was, and whatever she knew would be in this book.

 

     Flipping back and forth through the pages, Evan quickly realized he didn’t understand how this arcane thing really worked. There was no glossary, no dated entries, and no numbered pages. He flipped to one page and then another. When he flipped back to the first, he found it was covered in completely different text.

 

     The pages were filled with thousands upon thousands of trivial bits of knowledge. The taste of a fruit, the lyrics to a song, the directions to an address. Evan cleared his throat, looked around to see that the hall was clear. Then he whispered to the book, “Show me information about Jelani Fanaka.”

 

     Evan flinched and cried out with a start, for the book suddenly snapped itself shut like an alligator’s jaws. He held his hands up, afraid to touch it again. It had gone still now, sitting light as a feather in his lap. “Um,” his voice cracked, “will you _please_ show me information about Jelani Fanaka?”

 

     Sometimes with these magical things, all it took was proper manners. But in this case, the book opened itself once more and flipped its own pages to show him a particular excerpt.

 

     It read,

_“I, Charity Asha, vow to keep all patient information confidential…”_

 

     He didn’t bother reading the rest, eyeing the book like it had made a bad joke. “I see,” he muttered. It closed itself once more and he placed it back on the shelf. He had hoped to get some insight into Jelani’s past, maybe even his feelings towards Evan. There might have been something about Lukas in there too.

 

     If there was, it was not for Evan to see, and he wasn’t about to be caught fighting with a book like a madman. Soon Sabrani called him for lunch, but he saw no reason to attend if Jelani was absent. So the elfenne brought plates to him on a third floor balcony while he overlooked the courtyard. He watched the overfed guard dogs sleep under the shade of leafy palms below.

 

     “Sabrani,” he called, stopping her before he left. He was seated at a glass patio table. “I hope you don’t take offense to this, but I…I noticed you’re thin as a rail, and I haven’t once seen you eat since I’ve arrived. The servants _are_ fed, aren’t they?”

 

     “Oh, yes,” she replied. “We get gruel twice a day. Once at sunrise and again at sunset.”

Evan quirked an eyebrow. “Gruel? I see the servants throwing _pounds_ of leftovers to the dogs after every meal. Why not simply eat them yourselves?”

 

     “I remember a time when that was the case. But Lady Moswen put a stop to it decades ago, for she didn’t wish to ‘spoil’ us anymore.” Sabrani’s gaze fell to her clasped hands. “King Fanaka has not bothered to change the rules, so this is what it is and what it will be.”

 

     “You must be hungry,” said Evan.

She replied simply, “Every day, Sir.”

The mercenary gestured to one of his plates with his wooden fork. “Would you like to share this with me? There is more than enough.”

“It is forbidden, Sir.”

 

     “Sabrani,” Evan said, “I order you to sit down beside me and eat as much of this food as you please.”

Her narrow lips curving into a smile, the elfenne slipped into the second chair. “Thank you, Sir.”

He gave her his wooden spoon and she cautiously began picking at the food.

 

     Evan swallowed another bite and began, “Would you mind telling me a little about yourself? I’m curious to know how you became a servant here at the palace.”

“It isn’t a long story,” she told him, dabbing a napkin at her lips. “I was sold to the Fanaka family almost two centuries ago. I was ten or eleven years old then. I have not set foot outside the palace ever since.”

 

     “Two centuries…” Evan’s brows shot up. He asked, “Who sold you to the Fanakas?”

Sabrani replied casually, “The elder of Kandul. I was sold along with several other children, but I know not what became of them now.”

“That seems cruel to me,” Evan frowned. “Why would he sell his own people into slavery?”

 

     “I am not of the elder’s people,” she explained. “I am one of a small ethnic group that lives in Yerim-Mor lands. Those lands used to belong to us long ago, long before I was born, but Yerim-Mor Kingdom took it away.”

 

     She shrugged, poking at her food. “So we had nowhere to go, and the kingdom did not care for us. Our kind was forced into the slums of Kandul, and every year the elder would choose some of us to sell to foreign buyers.”

 

     Evan furrowed his brow. His appetite was waning. “I’m so sorry, Sabrani. That’s absolutely barbaric,” he said.

Of all expressions, Sabrani wore a smile when she replied, “I don’t feel that way. I was excited to go, as were the other children. My parents died, so I was orphaned early on. Many of my people died every day in the slums. Hunger and disease ravaged us terribly.”

 

     She gestured around her. “But look at me now! I live in a palace! I am fed every day and treated when I’m ill. Had I not left, I know I would have never seen adulthood.”

“You are housed and _just barely_ fed,” Evan told her. “But you are not respected at all. I’ve seen the way the royal family treats you. It isn’t acceptable.”

 

     “You are correct, Sir. But these are the circumstances the gods have granted me. I have no choice but to make the best of it, or else suffer two centuries of misery,” said Sabrani, then she spooned another bite of food in her mouth.

 

     The mercenary opened his mouth to speak. He then realized he had nothing to say and closed it. Together he and the slave finished their meal as the sun began to fall.

 


	4. BEING APART TOGETHER

##  **[CHAPTER 4: BEING APART TOGETHER]**

 

     It wasn’t hard to stay occupied in a palace so massive. There was an entire library for Evan to explore, a pool to swim in, training dummies to fight, and an archery range to shoot. He ate dinner alone, for Jelani didn’t show up for that either. He was getting very nervous now.

 

     What if Jelani never wanted to see his face again? Had he offended him so badly by fleeing last night?

 

     Now it was getting late. Evan borrowed a book from the library and read it in his bedchamber, cozy in his pajamas by the glow of an oil lamp. The sky outside had gone completely dark an hour ago.

 

     He heard the doorknob turn, assumed it was Sabrani and didn’t bother taking his eyes off the book. Light from the hallway poured in. Then it disappeared when the door closed again. Evan thought the silence strange, so he lowered the book and gasped at the figure standing before him.

 

     “Jelani,” he said, scrambling to sit upright as he tossed the blankets aside, “I was very worried about you! Where have you been?”

The king stepped towards him with a shrug, replied, “I’m a busy man, I told you before. I wasn’t trying to make you sweat.”

 

     The mercenary’s expression fell. “Why did you tell me the trains weren’t running?” he asked cautiously.

Jelani’s eyes rounded for only a split second, flashing in the dim glow of the lamp. He scratched at his cheek and said flippantly, “Ah, yes, that was a foolish mistake on my advisors’ part! I apologize. There is so much to do, I think sometimes they get their information jumbled. I will see that you get a new ticket tomorrow.”

 

     He sat by Evan’s side, pulling the crown off his head. He turned it over in his hands as he spoke, “I wanted to have a talk with you anyway. About yesterday…”

“Yes. I’m sorry about that,” the mercenary blurted. It was all he could manage.

 

     “I just want to know,” Jelani began quietly. He faced Evan with hurt in his eyes. “ _Why_? You told me you’re unwed, that you’re merry and you’re fond of me. So for what reason would you reject a _king_? A king who wants you so badly that he can hardly sleep at night!”

 

     Evan had no idea how to answer that. The true reason boiled down to fear. Fear of his own affliction and Jelani’s reaction to it, fear of being shunned, of possibly being put down like the vicious animal he was. He wanted to be honest. But he was so very afraid.

 

     He settled with a half-truth and told the king, “I want you too. I do, I truly do! I suppose I…I just have cold feet. Well, _foot_.” He wiggled his toes against the wooden floor, his amputated stump hanging from the bed’s edge.

 

     He sighed, “There are many things you don’t know about me, Jelani. My past is colorful, and not in a good way. I fear that if you knew the person I really was, you would want nothing to do with me.”

 

     “Is that it? Ha. You couldn’t scare me, my friend. I only care about who you are, not who've you been.” Jelani’s sullen expression lifted into a sly grin. He wrapped his arms around the man’s shoulders and pressed their foreheads together.

 

     “You hardly know me,” Evan told him quietly.

Jelani chuckled, “Then let me know you better.”

 

     With that, he crushed their lips together and threw a leg over the mercenary’s lap. Jelani straddled him on the edge of the bed, grasping his face with both hands as their tongues tangled, slow and swaying like a Matuzan dance. Evan’s misery seemed to drift out the window in an instant.

 

     This was a bad idea. An awful, terrible idea. Evan’s lycanthropy knew that to be true. But his humanity was all too charmed by the honey in his heart and the butterflies in his soul. So for once, Evan let the love come as it may. He leaned into the kiss and parted his lips for Jelani’s tongue, letting himself fall backwards onto the sheets.

 

     Jelani hovered over him, relentless in his romance. He hands slid down the mercenary’s face to pull his top open. Buttons popped away with ease. Evan felt Jelani grinding against his pelvis and wrapped his legs—or one leg and the remnants of another—around his waist.

 

     Clothes were shed like snakeskin and carelessly tossed to the floor. Jelani’s kisses strayed from Evan’s mouth to his neck. He buried his face there and Evan grunted, let out a quiet laugh when he felt the pressure of teeth.

 

     “Oh, is _that_ how you like it?” Jelani murmured against his throat. He clamped down again, harder this time, and the noise Evan made only encouraged him.

 

     The king withdrew, propped up with elbows on either side of his lover’s head. He stared down at Evan’s blushing face and grinned his crooked grin. “I told you I’d see you on your back, Atlas,” he said.

The mercenary threw his head back and laughed. Then he seized Jelani’s waist and rolled them over, flipping their positions like they were in the arena.

 

     Evan pinned the king’s arms above his head and declared, “The round’s not over yet!”

 

*

 

     Lukas didn’t have many friends growing up. But his best friend of all had always been the shroud of night. It was under the cover of darkness that he crept out of his room to do the many, many things his mother forbade.

 

     Tonight, he was creeping _into_ his room. He knew the guard’s patrol schedules by heart. He knew where the darkest shadows landed and where the creakiest boards lie. The archer climbed a stack of crates to reach an awning, took a running leap to a wooden support beam, then scaled his way to his open bedroom window.

 

     Lukas kept telling himself he was leaving and then never following through. He just couldn’t. Not while his best friend played with fire, because Evan was bound to get himself into trouble like he always did. And every time Lukas extinguished the flames, he thought to himself what would have happened if he hadn’t been there.

 

     He would lose a friend, that’s what. And it wasn’t like he had a lot of those to spare. So Lukas faced his traumatic history with this place head-on, so that he may try to rescue his friend one last time. Evan should have been on a flight home by now, and the fact that he wasn’t set off all Lukas’ loudest alarms.

 

     Creeping up to the balcony facade like a spider, Lukas silently hoisted himself up beside the window. He could hear multiple voices inside. Grunting, heavy breathing, signs of a struggle. Lukas readied the dagger at his hip. He was fully prepared to identify the threat and plunge a blade into their neck before they even knew what hit them.

 

     But when he peeked over the window’s edge, Evan wasn’t being strangled or sliced or any such thing. Rather, he was down on his knees in a most undignified position, bobbing his head between the thighs of none other than Lukas’ loathsome brother!

 

     Lukas flinched back so hard that he nearly toppled off his perch. He slapped a hand over his mouth to silence his breath, which had suddenly become harsh with shock. For a moment he could only close his eyes and press himself against the wall. It wasn’t real. He was hallucinating. It was just the shadows in the darkness playing tricks with his head.

 

     Lukas threw a glance through the window once more to prove it. He wished he didn’t, because never in his life did he wish to witness his own brother thrusting into someone’s mouth. Especially not the mouth of his closest friend, his former lover, the mouth he once claimed himself in simpler, happier times. Jelani had no right to such a thing, he thought miserably.

 

     Nausea sank Lukas’ belly like an anchor. His legs quaked as he scrambled back down the building. He impatiently waited for a guard to pass, then jumped from an awning and made a silent landing in the dirt. Here on the wall was a heavy brass crank. It was one of many emergency alarms around the palace, and Lukas was more than familiar with the evacuation point.

 

     Anger, betrayal, bitterness, grief, and jealousy—these ingredients combined in the pit of Lukas’ heart after seeing what he’d seen. The volatile mixture fueled him to impulsively turn the crank.

 

     It creaked as he spun it faster and faster, and he only wished he could be there to see those two scrambling for their clothes in a panic. Guards bursting in to escort them out of the building, catching them in such a lewd and pathetic state…

 

     Served them right a hundred times over, Lukas decided. A groaning horn began to blare from the palace rooftops, its sound reaching the furthest edges of Uekoro. Lukas flattened himself into the shadows as a troop of guards went sprinting by. When the way was clear, he crept to the other side of the building for his next move.

 

*

 

     An alarm sounded out of nowhere, shattering the serene quiescence. Evan jerked back from Jelani with a start, thrown into a coughing fit. Jelani cursed as he swiped his trousers off the headboard. “Ugh, impeccable damn timing! Get dressed, Love! Quickly!” he said.

 

     Evan sat on the floor with no furniture around to hoist himself up. “Toss my pants to me,” he said. “And my leg!”

Jelani found the mercenary’s peg leg leaning against the wall. He threw it in Evan’s direction and then hastily searched for the bottom half of his pajamas strewn somewhere across the room.

 

     Evan was still sitting on the floor stark-naked, slipping on his prosthetic when the door flew open. Three guards poured in with urgency, each one of their faces blanching when they saw the scene before them. Still one was quick to bark, “Your Highness, we are here to escort you out of the building!”

 

     “Fire or Etios or what?” asked Jelani. He finally found Evan’s pants and returned them.

The guard reported, “Still unknown, but it’s not a drill. We are gathering everyone at the evacuation point while we sweep the perimeter.”

 

     Within a minute, Evan and Jelani were dressed to a bare minimum and rushed out of the building. Evan saw servants lined up against the wall, kept out of the way while more valued personnel were escorted down the corridor by guards. The king and the mercenary were escorted separately, taking a secret route through a false wall panel.

 

     The doorway led to a narrow stairwell. At the bottom was a door that opened up to the outside. Jelani and Evan curved around the building and stopped at the front doors of the palace, where everyone else inside was now gathered. Panicked chatter spread over everyone while guards hurried back into the building to hunt for threats.

 

     But the guards failed to notice Lukas. He was wrapped head-to-toe in his dark disguise, clinging to a false balcony overlooking the crowd. He spotted his best friend and his brother, barefoot and shirtless and gleaming with sweat, and that was his time to act.

 

     Lukas slid down the building and took a flying leap to the cobblestone plaza below. Darting straight through the crowd, anyone in his path was shoved to the ground until he reached his target. He then seized Evan by the arm and hissed, “Come with me. We’re going home _now_!”

 

     Evan’s eyes rounded at the sight of him. He jerked his arm away, replied, “What are you doing here?”

“I’m saving your hide yet again!” Lukas told him. “And you’re too dense to even realize it!” Suddenly he found himself in a crushing headlock.

 

     Jelani pulled his slightly older—but much smaller—brother away from Evan and bellowed, “Guards! Guards, seize this one at once!” Lukas kicked and wriggled in Jelani’s grip, but it was no use. In that moment it was like he became eight years old again.

 

     Seconds later, two guards arrived and cuffed Lukas’ wrists behind his back. Meanwhile Jelani shouted in his face, “And just who in the names of the gods do you think _you_ are?”

 

     Evan watched with anticipation from behind him, silent and unblinking. Lukas struggled in his binds and shouted back, “I’m your _brother,_ you idiot!”

 

     Jelani’s expression fell, brow softening above wide eyes. He threw a glance back at Evan, who had nothing to say. Then he turned back to the mysterious man, cautiously reached for his face wrap. When he pulled it away, the face of his long-lost and presumably dead sibling looked back at him, hardened by anger and years of strife.

 

     The wrap fell to the ground in a heap. Jelani staggered back as if he’d seen a ghost—and perhaps he had, he thought. “Lu…Lukas…?” His voice was barely audible over the crowd’s chatter. He slowly reached up to touch his brother’s face, prove he was a tangible being and, in fact, real.

 

     He did make contact, but only with teeth as Lukas bit down on his hand.

“Ow! Fuck!” Jelani cried and jerked his hand back, cradling it in the other.

 

     Lukas spat red saliva onto the cobblestone and blurted, “Yeah, I’m still around! Been working for this backstabbing slimebag,” he tipped his head towards Evan, “for the last, oh, fifteen years or so? Anyway, good to see ya!” he spat the words with such sarcastic bitterness, he could taste it.

 

     Jelani whirled around to face Evan. He exclaimed, tone loud and intense, “You know my brother? You knew him this whole time and you said nothing to me?”

 

     Before Evan could speak, Lukas added, “There’s probably a lot you don’t know about Evan! For example, did he tell you he’s a lycanthrope? Turns into a bloodthirsty, murderous beast under the full moon! Pretty important stuff to know, huh? Or did he neglect to share that little tidbit too?”

 

     “ _Lukas_!” Evan growled through gnashed teeth, fists clenching at his sides. His brow was wrinkled in anger but his eyes were heavy with hurt. He looked at Jelani. The king wasn’t even looking back at him.

 

     He was instead fixated only on Lukas, squeezing his brother’s shoulders as he said, “All these years, I thought you were _dead_! And now you show up like this, right out of thin air! W-why didn’t you come back, Lukas? Why didn’t you at least write me and ease my mind? I’ve been—”

 

     “Your Highness,” a guard panted, running up from the palace doors. “The head of security wishes to speak with you. We need your authorization to access some areas.”

Jelani clenched his bloody fist, for a moment looked as if he’d strike the guard in the face. He looked back at Lukas, then at Evan.

 

     Then he pointed to one of the guards behind Lukas and ordered, “Cuff Mr. Atlas and hold them both until I return! This shouldn’t take long.” With that, he hurried off with the other guard. Evan reluctantly decided to cooperate as he was cuffed and pushed to the ground beside Lukas.

 

     He then turned to his archer and whispered through his teeth, “Are you trying to get me executed or what?”

Lukas shot back, “Lycanthropy isn’t a crime in Uekoro, you twit!” He brought his knees to his chest and muttered between them, “But that doesn’t mean Jelani will like it…”

 

     “What on Gaia is your problem? Why are you so furious with me?”

“Because while you’re out here getting your pecker wet, your motley crew is running your business into the ground a full continent away! And in case you forgot, _I_ don’t get paid unless _you_ do your job!”

 

     Evan furrowed his brow, narrowed his eyes with suspicion. After a moment he queried, “Is this some kind of…Jealousy issue, or…?”

“No, it’s not! Are you serious?” growled Lukas.

Evan continued, “Because in case you forgot, it was _you_ who decided to break up our ‘thing’.”

“It’s not about that, Evan!”

 

     “Well, I’m not convinced!”

The archer stammered in frustration, “You have truly lost your mind! What—How could—why would you even think that? That was ages ago for gods’ sakes!”

 

     “I think that because I know you,” Evan told him. “I’ve known you for all of those ages, and I know what makes you tick and what doesn’t. Would you just let your guard down for once in your life and be honest with me?”

Lukas murmured, “I let my guard down for you once upon a time. And we both know how that turned out, don’t we?”

 

     “We’ve grown a lot since then, Lukas.” Evan paused. “Or at least _I_ have. You are being completely unreasonable right now! Are you listening to yourself?”

“Are _you_ listening to me?” Lukas shouted back.

 

     They met eachother in a silent staredown. Finally Evan broke contact with a hard sigh and a shake of his head, turning the opposite direction. Lukas did the same, glaring away into the lights of Uekoro at the bottom of the hill.

 

*

 

     When Jelani returned, he had Evan and Lukas locked in the palace dungeon.

 

     “Until I get my head on straight,” he told them, and then he disappeared again for an hour or two. In that time, captain and archer decided they had nothing to say to one another. In cold silence, they sat as far apart as they could manage in the tiny cell.

 

     Finally Jelani returned a second time with just a single guard in his company. He stood in front of the cell with his arms crossed tightly against his chest. He glowered down at them as he said, “I’ve spoken to Dr. Asha and she’s helped me sort my thoughts on the matter. First of all, I want to say I’m not happy with either of you. I’m angry with _you_ ,” he turned to Evan, “for withholding such important information about my brother from me.”

 

     Then he turned to Lukas. “And I’m angry with _you_ for abandoning the family and playing dead for all these years.” Jelani paused for a long moment, staring hard at the ground. Then his expression softened and he continued, “Despite all that, I’m struggling to _stay_ angry. I want to forgive you. Both of you. But in order to do that, I need you to meet me half-way.”

 

     His prisoners remained silent, anticipating his next words. Jelani looked at Lukas and said, “My brother, I want you to come home.”

Lukas hesitated before he replied, “Is that a joke? After everything that happened before I left, you really want me here?”

 

     “Look,” Jelani sighed, leaning against the bars, “I’ve barely been holding my head above water since dad died. I’m drowning, Lukas. If it weren’t for mom’s advice I would be completely helpless, and trust me, it’s all I can do to keep from wringing her neck every time we speak.”

 

     Tapping his crown, he went on, “It should be you wearing this crown, not me. It was your destiny all along. You completed all the schooling, you did the _wheshpala_ , you were supposed to be king of Uekoro, and I was supposed to be the captain of its military.”

 

     He frowned. “It didn’t work out that way. But it isn’t too late. If you want the throne, Lukas, I would pass it back to you in a heartbeat. Because it becomes clearer to me every day that I’m turning into our mother. I was never cut out to be the boss. I’m a damn tyrant.”

 

     Lukas fell into silence. He looked at Evan, who shot a fearful expression back at him.

 

 _Don’t_ , Evan told him silently.

So Lukas did.

 

     “I’ll consider it,” the archer said. “I’m getting burned out on mercenary work these days, you know? Being my own boss might be a nice change of pace.”

Evan sat across from him, looking crestfallen.

Jelani’s shoulders seemed to relax. He replied, “I realize it’s a big decision, so please, take your time. I will be happy to accommodate you while you think it over.”

 

     That said, he ordered the guard to unlock the cell door and pulled it open with a creak. “Come on,” he told them. “Make yourselves at home. We’ll talk more about this tomorrow.”

 

     It was well passed midnight by the time Evan and Lukas found themselves trudging to bed. They walked together down the corridor and Evan asked, “You aren’t really thinking of taking the throne, are you?”

Lukas refused to look at him. “Why do you care?”

 

     “Because you’re my friend. At least, I think you are.”

“Oh, you think.” The archer rolled his eyes and opened the door to his old bedroom. Evan tried to trail him in, but Lukas shoved him back over the threshold and snapped, “Where are you going?”

 

     “I…Well, I thought we would be sharing the…?” Evan stammered, fingers fidgeting together.

Lukas gave him another shove for good measure, laughed bitterly, “Ah, sure! Just rub your mongrel stench all over _my_ room, paw through _my_ things, and screw _my_ brother on _my_ bed. Then go ahead and act like you’re still welcome! It’s fine!”

 

     His bitter smile curved into a scowl. “Here’s an idea: why don’t you kiss _my_ ass?” he said, and with that he slammed the door in Evan’s face.

 

     Evan stood there in the hall for entirely too long, simply feeling too heavy to move. He considered leaving the palace, getting a room at the inn and taking a train home in the morning. But in the end, his obsessive desire to make things right just wouldn’t let him.

 

     He slowly turned and made his way over to the wall. There he slumped down and eventually fell asleep with his head between his knees.

 

*

 

     Evan jolted awake when a door slammed shut in front of him. He opened his eyes, saw Lukas standing there in yesterday’s clothes. His face was weary, eyes burdened by dark rings. He regarded Evan with a frown, then walked off down the corridor. Evan stood up and looked out the giant arch-shaped window behind him. The sunrise painted the sky orange and pink.

 

     He met Sabrani half-way down the hall, who told him that breakfast would be starting soon. The mercenary’s stomach longed for food and his heart longed for Jelani, so he made his way to the dining room.

 

     When he arrived, it seemed everything was moving forward as usual. The table was stuffed with an obscene amount of food, personnel chattering, slaves working themselves to the bone. Evan realized he was underdressed in his cotton pajamas and lycanthrope beard. At this point it didn’t matter, for the king had seen him dressed down to nothing at all just yesterday.

 

     And what a night _that_ was, interruptions and family drama aside. Evan’s heart fluttered just thinking about it. He eagerly took his seat beside Jelani and greeted him with a sheepish smile. The king seemed in much better spirits today when he said, “I’m glad to see you, Evan. I was afraid you might not show.”

 

     “Of course I would! I told you, you make me happy,” said Evan. After a pause, he gathered his frayed nerves together and added, “Jelani, listen. I, uh…Want to apologize. I’m sorry that I didn’t tell you about Lukas. That wasn’t right, and it was never my intention to hurt you.”

 

     He leaned on the table and continued, “I begged Lukas over and over to make amends with you since we arrived. He just wouldn’t do it, and those reasons are a mystery to me. But he asked me not to tell you about him, and being my best friend, well…I was just trying to respect his wishes.”

 

     “As for the lycanthropy,” Evan went on quietly, swiping at his neck, “that was sheer dishonest negligence on my part. I’m sorry. I was afraid that you might leave me if you knew, or worse. You see, where I’m from, people like me are hunted like animals.” He shrugged, letting out a sigh. “If you want nothing to do with me, knowing what you know, I completely understand.”

 

     Jelani’s smile didn’t change. He slid his arm across the table and gave Evan’s hand a squeeze. “Evan,” he began, “I fell in love with you as you are. If you need to howl at the moon once a month or so, I’m sure we can cross that bridge when we come to it. You’re talking to a man who’s courted everyone from humans to roshava to cecaelia. A touch of lycanthropy is a sad excuse for an obstacle in my eyes.”

 

     He withdrew his hand and picked up his silver fork, poking at the plate before him. “I’m sorry for reacting like I did yesterday. I guess I was just in shock. Seeing my own brother rise from the dead and all that. Anyway, to no one’s surprise, Lukas has made himself scarce again this morning. So I’d like you ask you some questions, if you don’t mind.”

“Of course.”

“What has he been up to all these years? I mean, how did you come to know eachother in the first place?”

 

     Evan leaned back in his seat, explained, “According to him, we met just a few months after he fled Uekoro. I was a one-man operation back then, just trying to get a trinket back from some band of looters. These guys were keeping Lukas as some kind of slave. I took pity on him and set him free.” He shrugged. “He stuck by my side and I haven’t been able to shake him since.”

 

     The king nodded. Evan decided to add, “Temperamental as he is, he really has been a good friend. Gods only know how many times he’s pulled me out a jam, how many times he’s risked his life for me…He was the first person who didn’t abandon me when I told him what I was.”

 

     Perhaps against his better judgment, Evan decided to add one more thing. “By the way,” he started, “it was Lukas who asked me to win the rematch. Otherwise I would have surely taken the fall.”

 

     To his surprise, Jelani’s laughter boomed over the table. “That petty fool! How very like him! Ah, I’ll get him back for that one…” he mused, raising his goblet to his lips. Then he lowered it and said, “You know, Lukas and I have had our disagreements. We fought like animals growing up. Got on eachother’s nerves like you would never believe. There was always this rivalry between us because of this one servant girl who…”

 

     He shook his head. “Well, I won’t get into all that. It’s a mess. What I really mean to say is, absence makes the heart grow fonder. I never realized how much I would miss Lukas until he was gone. I always said I’d piss on his grave, but when the day actually came, all I spilled on it were tears.”

 

     Jelani looked this way and that. Then he asked, “Where is he anyway? Have you seen him this morning? I really want to talk to him.”

“I saw him not long ago,” said Evan, rising from his seat. “I’ll see if I can find him.”

 

     Retracing his steps to the last corridor he saw Lukas, Evan was nearly hit by an opening door. He jumped out of the way. Out stepped Lukas from Moswen’s chamber, the same place Evan was berated for “bruising” her on his first day. Lukas saw Evan and jumped with a start.

 

     He then slammed the door shut and exhaled, “You scared the soul out of me…”

“Having a chat with your mother?” queried Evan.

Lukas shoved passed him and grumbled, “Mind your own business.”

 

     “I just wanted to ask,” Evan began, trailing him, “if you’ve decided to take the throne. If not, be quick about it. I need to know if I should start looking for a new second-in-command.”

Lukas stopped and whirled around to face him. “No, I haven’t. Why don’t you go suck my brother off while you wait?” he snapped.

 

     Evan pointed down the hall and replied, “I'd love to, but right now he’s asking for you.”

Face contorted in disgust, Lukas stormed off towards the dining room.

 

*

 

     With Lukas gone, Evan returned to his old bedroom. There he cleaned himself up and dressed in his armor. He exercised good manners when he arrived, didn’t go poking around too much without permission. Now he was feeling bitter. He began going through Lukas’ old drawers and shelves, found abandoned remnants of his life extending all the way back to his childhood.

 

     Long-expired skin cream and hair wax. A box full of children’s toys. Sticks of charcoal and chalk, bottles of paint and brushes. Among the art supplies in the closet, Evan found a stack of sketchbooks.

 

     Evan always knew Lukas was the artistic type, but he rarely let anyone see his work. This was a treat indeed. Evan sat down on the floor with the sketchbooks and sorted them. Each one had a year scrawled on the front cover. He picked up the earliest he could find, which Lukas must have started when he was ten or so.

 

     Drawings typical of a child, page after page. Stick figures with big round heads and rakes for hands enjoyed countless adventures in this book. Each one was labeled: Me. Mom. Dad. Jelani. Itanya. Asha. There were many more names Evan didn’t recognize.

 

     But one figure that kept coming back was “Itanya”. She was a child-sized stick figure with straight lines of hair. Likely an elven slave, judging by the way Little Lukas had drawn her with pointed ears and squares of iron on her wrists. Sometimes she was alone, but mostly she was drawn playing with the Lukas figure.

 

     Evan was familiar with Itanya. Lukas spoke of her once many years ago and then decidedly never again.

 

     Evan moved on to the next book. Age 13 or so. The drawings were more detailed and diverse, featuring buildings and recognizable animals. The stick figures were more distinct.

 

     A new sketchbook, age 17. Lukas had become quite the artist at this point. Evan marveled at the way he’d depicted lighting and shadow, reflections on water, expressions on people. And by now those people no longer needed labels. Some of them were posing as if he’d asked to draw them. He recognized Dr. Asha, some elven slaves, and of course Itanya’s face nearly dominated the book.

 

     The sketchbook from age 20 was the latest. The drawings stopped abruptly, leaving the last half of the book empty. So that was that. Evan slowly closed it and set it aside, sitting there in silent thought. He’d been poking through this room looking for dirt on Lukas, and all he found were things that made the man all the more endearing to him.

 

     He remembered the old days, back when they were a two-man team. It felt natural, the way they had grown into so much more than that. From crewmates, to friends, to best friends, to lovers. And then, regretfully, back to best friends.

 

     Their time as lovers had been brief, though Evan still held those memories closest to his heart. They were too immature then, too burdened by guilt and trauma and other ghosts of their pasts to make it work.

 

     So they would love, and they would fight, and they would love, and they would fight. Evan still remembered how their arguments would exhaust him harder than wrangling bandits or slaying beasts ever did.

 

     “Loving you is the best thing and the worst thing in my life,” Lukas once told him. “I don’t know about you, but clearly I’m too messed up for a thing like love. I think we’d both be happier if we destroyed this before we destroy eachother.”

 

     And the love was severed then and there.

 

     But it wasn’t really, for Evan always had and always would have feelings for this distant, shite-talking train wreck. Because only such a person could truly understand a stubborn, dramatic, mongrel like Evan. Reflecting on this, Evan had a sudden epiphany: Lukas was only angry because he loved Evan back.

 

     That was just the archer’s way. Shields up, weapons out, ready to fight any tenderness he encountered. Evan knew that, for he was the only one who knew about Lukas’ weakest, sorest, most vulnerable spot. It traced all the way back to Itanya. And ever since the day he accidentally took her life, fear had consumed Lukas like a parasite.

 

     He couldn’t lose anyone he loved if he didn’t love anyone. Evan knew that twisted kind of logic all too well, still grappled with it himself. The captain’s stomach settled. His shoulders loosened. All of his anger escaped in a big, long sigh. His own bitterness pushed Lukas away, and now he had to pull him back in to make things okay again.

 

     Things definitely wouldn’t be okay if Lukas decided to stay here and rule Uekoro. So Evan rose to his feet and rushed out the door. When he arrived at the dining hall, only servants remained, gathering leftovers to throw to the dogs. He asked one of them where Jelani and Lukas had gone.

 

     “To the conference room, Sir,” the servant told him, so that’s where Evan went rushing to next. He pulled at the door handle. Locked. He was too late. Evan scrubbed at his face, letting out a groan as he slumped against the wall. He would just have to wait. Wait and pray that he hadn’t pushed his best friend on all of Looming Gaia too far to find his way back.

 

     He moped there for quite some time before someone approached him. She was one of the palace maenads, her golden amphora dangling from her grip. She set the amphora down and kneeled before him. “Aww, you look so upset,” she said, reaching out with both hands to caress his face. “Can I do anything to make you smile, handsome?”

 

     Evan replied flatly, “Get enough drink in me and we’ll see.” The maenad obeyed, uncorking her amphora and tipping it to the mercenary’s mouth. As long as her magical hands were upon it, the wine kept flowing and flowing.

It flowed so much that she grew concerned and queried, “Haven’t you had enough?”

 

     Evan said nothing, for his throat was still swallowing back alcohol like water to a fish. He simply waved his hand and reluctantly the maenad entertained his wishes.

 

 

*

 

     Apparently, maenad wine was a lot stronger than the cheap bourbon Evan was used to. He collapsed there in the hall, and the maenad had to call ten of her sisters to carry him back to his chamber. They dropped him on the bed and left, stepping around all the sketchbooks littering the floor.

 

     The evening sun blinded him through the window when he finally opened his eyes. He cursed and grumbled, kicked himself for his weakness. When would he ever learn? This was _exactly_ why he needed Lukas by his side! He’d proven time and time again that he was nothing but an impulsive, foolish, drunkard without him.

 

     Surely Lukas and Jelani had finished their conference by now. Evan’s stomach was churning like butter and his head was pounding like a drum. Still he forced himself out of bed and staggered towards the door. Before he could even grasp the handle, it swung open and two familiar faces greeted him on the other side.

 

     “Ah, good. You’re awake,” Jelani smiled. Lukas stood beside him, expression much softer from the last time he’d seen it.

Evan blinked the blur from his eyes, carefully assembling his next words on his tongue. He said, “I was just about to come looking for you two! Have, um…?”

 

     “We’ve reached an agreement, yes,” replied Jelani. He stepped into the room with Lukas and closed the door behind them.

Lukas crossed his arms and explained quietly, “I decided not to take the throne. But I promised Jelani I wouldn’t run away again, that I’ll send letters and keep in touch whenever I can.”

 

     Evan’s posture sank with relief. He clamped a heavy hand on Lukas’ shoulder and offered a weary grin. “I can’t express how happy that makes me,” he said. After a brief pause, he added, “Mostly because I’m hungover. But know that I thought it over while you were gone, and I realized just how childish I was acting towards you. I’m glad to have you by my side, Lukas.”

 

     Lukas smiled back at him in that dull, crooked way he did. “I’m glad too,” he said, and they pulled eachother into a tight squeeze. As soon as they withdrew, Jelani stepped between them and pulled Evan close.

 

     He told the captain, “There’s one more condition…” Then he locked Evan in a passionate kiss. Lukas rolled his eyes and turned his head in disgust. When he pulled away, Jelani finished, “I want _you_ to keep in touch too. Do we have a deal?”

Evan swiped at his beet-red neck and replied breathlessly, “We certainly do!”

 

     Lukas gaze drifted to the floor. He saw all the sketchbooks lying there and furrowed his brow at Evan. “Were you going through my stuff?” he asked sharply.

“Yes,” said Evan, “and I’m glad I did. I saw a part of your soul that I know you’d never show me. It was a part I needed to see, else I’d have forgotten why we were friends in the first place.”

 

     Lukas sighed as he gathered the books in his arms. He turned to Jelani, asked, “Mind if I take these with me?”

Jelani grinned and patted his back. “Please. I always prayed that one day you’d come back for them.”

 

*

 

     Evan and Lukas left the palace early the next morning. They had one long train ride and two dragon flights ahead of them. They boarded the noisy, clunky train with hundreds of other passengers, its wildebeests bellowing left and right. They found a spot on the floor and sat side-by-side upon their bags.

 

     “Lukas,” Evan began quietly, “I really am sorry for how I’ve treated you lately.”

Lukas shook his head a little, leaning his elbows on his knees. He said, “I’m sorry too. And,” he swallowed the lump of anxiety in his throat, “you were right. I admit it: I was jealous.”

 

     Evan smiled. “I figured so.”

“It’s just that,” Lukas decided to explain, “growing up, Jelani was always trying to take things from me. He was an attention-grabbing little brat, just couldn’t stand it whenever I had something he didn’t. But the thing of mine he always wanted most was…”

 

     He sighed, barely audible when he finished, “ _Itanya_. I had to fight him every single day over her. Anyway, when you said you considered him a friend, that old urge to fight hit me like a brick. And when I caught you two together, it hit me more like a train.”

 

     The archer shook his head. “I just want you to be happy. I hated thinking about you being happy with anyone else--especially my brother. But I guess I just need to get over myself, don’t I?”

 

     “You never have to fight for me, Lukas,” Evan told him. “We aren’t _together_ anymore, but you will always have a special place in my heart. You will always be dear to me no matter whom I marry.”

Lukas quirked an eyebrow. “You already decided to _marry_ him?”

 

     Evan waved his hands and said, “No, no! I’m just saying…Well, neither of us can predict the future. I just hope that you’re always part of it, because then I’ll know I’ll always be happy.”

Lukas grinned his crooked grin. “If that’s the case, then I'll see you there.”

 

*

 

     “Your Highness, a moment of your time? It is very urgent,” said Dr. Asha. Worry quivered her usual calm tone.

 

     Jelani had been looking over the balcony at the courtyard, a goblet of palm wine swirling in his hand. He turned to her, replied, “Go ahead.”

 

     “It’s regarding Lady Moswen,” Dr. Asha told him solemnly, stepping forward with hands clasped before her. She continued slowly, “I’m afraid she has passed on. One of the servants found her struggling to breathe last night and called my attention. I did all I could, but…” She sighed. “I am so sorry.”

 

     Jelani met her with a long silence, leaning his back against the brass railing. Finally he sipped from his goblet and queried, “Cause of death?”

Dr. Asha said, “We haven’t begun a full investigation. I came here to ask your approval first. At a glance, I daresay she may have been poisoned. What would you like me to do, Your Highness?”

 

     The king looked down at his wine, swirling it thoughtfully in his favorite jeweled goblet. After another silence he said, “Forget the investigation.” Then he tossed the goblet over the balcony and began walking inside. “I want that hag in the ground by this evening.”

 

     Dr. Asha followed him down the corridor and asked, “Shall I write a letter informing your brother?”

Jelani thought about it for a moment. He answered, “Sure. Send him a bouquet of Matuzan lilies and a thank-you card for his good deed.”

 

**END**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you very much for reading! I'm always trying to improve my writing so any feedback is appreciated.


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